LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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CROWN^ POINT, IND. 
PRINTED AT THE "REGISTER" OFFICE. 

1888. 



Copyright 1888, 

BY 

By T. H. BALL, 



'^ Nature never did betray 

The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege 

Through all the years of this our life to lead 

From joy to joy; for she can so inform 

The mind that is within us, so impress 

With quietness and beauty, and so feed 

With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, 

Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men. 

Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all 

The dreary intercourse of daily life, 

Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 

Our cheerful faith — that all which we behold 

Is full of blessings." 



These hymns and poems are colk'eted into tliisvohime 
ihv my personal acquaintances and friends, and not for the 
literary world. Many of them are memorial in their 
nature and will have an interest, therefoi-e, for scnne 
readers aside from au}^ special poetic merit. That tliey 
are of unequal merit I am well aware; and I have heen for 
many years suthciently acnpiainted with a limited range ol 
poetic literature to know quite well their merits and 
demerits. Such as they are, and written (piite hastily as 
of necessity nearly all of them have been, I am sure that 
my friends will receive them cordially into their homes 
and libraries, collected as they now are from different 
periodicals and numuscripts and pi-esented in a single 
volume. They are arranged, it will be seen, in chronolog- 
ical order. T. H. B. 



5 

The Noise of Riuiuing Water. 1845. 



"The noise as of a ruiiinno- brook 

In the leafy month of June, 
Whicli to the sleeping woods all niglit 

Singeth a, quiet tune." 

The noise of running water is music to my ear; 

I love to see the running brooks all seasons of the year; 

But when stern, stormy winter yields to spring its reign, 
And all the ice and snow dissolve to water clear, 

Then do I love to see it rush sparkling to the main. 

And veiy swiftly too, do the waters glide away; 

The limpid stream that now is seen stays not a single day. 

But onward to the ocean so surely doth it glide, 
That many, very many, a weary league away; 

The waters of tlie inland brook do mingle with the tide. 

Thus, like the waters of the brook, passes the life of man; 
Swiftly, as its clear waters unto the ocean ran, 

And passed without a single pause the longest life will be. 
And speedily, though lengthened to the longest span. 

Will disai^pear within the ocean of eternity. 



In Memory of ANN EELSHAW. 1846. 

•IJied — Uii Sunday. 'Jbt June. 1<S4<). at tlu' lesidence 
'li»M- father, in Lake fount}'. Ind.. Ann, the youngest 
iughter of Oeorge and Eiizaheth Belshaw, aged eighteen 
?ars." 

"Thus was removed from among us one whose more 
lan ordinary natural graci*. amiable qualities, and Chris- 
an virtues, made her indeed the joy of her connections 
id the delight of many hearts." 

We say that she is dead, but what is death? 

Is it to cease to be forevermoie? 

When the low, ;3ad. parting words arc given. 

Beside the bed of death is that indeed 

The last farewell? And when that mournful look 

From tearful eyes, so fixed and so prolonged, 

Falls on the cold, inanimate claj- 

That lately was with life so radiant. 

Is it all hopeless, ever more to view 

That form, which the damp earth will soon receive? 

Oh no — love, praise and glory give, to Him, 

The High and Holy (hie. tliat we are not 

Thus comfortless. 

A revelation has to us l)een made 

From which we learn the soul will ever »>e: 

Will live and act to all eternity. 

That death is but its separation fiom 

The moital frame, the frame that turns to dust; 

And still again we learn, that tho' in dust, 

Thiis will be brought to life to die no more. 



A ploasanl and a lovely one . 

Has passed from earth away; 
On her the spoiler set his seal. 

She might not. could not stay; 
Away to realms of ^lory bright. 
The gentle s])irit took its Higlit. 

Like a fair, fresh, opening rose bud, 
Plucked from its parent stem. 

Was from its earthly house removed, 
This precious, priceless gem: 

Called by a Father kind, away. 

To shine in realms of endless day. 

Sweet was the music, when she here 

Sang Zion's sacred songs; 
But now ecstatic it must be, 

•Mid the angelic throngs, 
As she beholds her Saviour's face. 
And sings of all his matchless grace. 

She is a spirit, then is free 
From earthh^ pain and woe: 

Yet all her pleasures and ri(;h joys 
We do not, cannot know; 

We learn that all is peace and love 

In that bright, happy world above. 

Gentle sister, we shall never 

In life behold thee moi-e; 
For thj' short pilgrimage is done. 



Thou hast reached Canaan's sliore, 
Yet dost thou not with angels come 
To view thy friends within thy home? 

Thy home! ah, that is heaven now, 
Though wiiere, we do not know; 

Nor whether thou art evei- near 
Thy loved ones here below; 

We do but know that angels bright 

Minister to heirs of light. 

Stern death for thee had lost its sting, 

For thou couldst smiling say, 
"Jesus is precious to me now," — 

Thou didst not long to stay; 
And 'tis a joy for us to know 
Thou wast prepared and glad to go. 

Thy mortal frame doth rest in hope. 

We know " 'twill rise again," 
And trust it never more will know 

Sickness, or want, or pain; 
Then rest, O dust, low in the ground, 
Until the trumf) of God shall sound. 

Thy living soul, we do not doubt, 

Has entered into rest, 
And that with all the blot)d-washed throng^ 

'Twill be forever blest: 
And we too hope when life shall end, 
In heaven eternity to spend. 



9 
DEOEPTiON, 1849. 



'Ti.s said, in distant eastern lands, 
Where full upon the burning sands, 

Tlie hot sun pours his ray, 
In ambush near a cooling spring. 
The Lion, called of beasts the king, 

Lies down to lurk for prey: 
Tlie mild gazelle that ventures there. 
Falls thus into a deadl}^ snare. 

On earth, at springs where mortals drink, 
Unseen beside the shady brink, 

There lurks a deadly foe; 
Let those who at these springs of earth, 
AVould drink sweet draughts of joy and mirth, 

Take heed they fall not low. 
Quench not thy thirst; beware! I beware! 
A Lion lurks hi ambush there. 

In sunn}' climes, where bloom wild flowers. 
When through the sultry noontide hours. 

The serpents bask in heat; 
About the stalk of floweret fair, 
That with its fragrance fills the air. 

You may the serpent meet. 
The hand that culls that blossom gay, 
Will dearly for its beauty pay. 



10 

Some flowers of human mould there seem, 
Around us oft to bloom and beam. 

Lovely, and pure, and bright; 
But look with keen, discerning eye, 
And you may see a serpent sly, 

Hid near the cheering light. 
Pluck not the flower; beware! beware!! 
A serpenfs coiled in secret there. 

''All is not gold that glitters" bright; 
All is not lovely, pure, and right, 

That is with radiance fraught; 
Error may lurk where truth appears, 
Close robed to quell all rising fears, 

Ui-til its work is wrought. 
A subtle poison oft may be, 
Where most but truth and beauty see. 



THE CLOSING YEAR. 1850. 



I dreamed; for we may dream in waking hours; 

I dreamed 'twas almost midnight, on the last 

Of this December's nights. That warning note 

Which the clock gives five minutes from the hour, 

Was given; and I mused, in silent thought, 

How soon the old year would be gone. A step, 

Solemn and stately, struck on fancj-'s ear; 

And a strange form drew near. It paused. It spoke. 



11 

These are its fancied words: 

''Behold me here, 
Bowed down with age, my journey almost o'er, 
Three hundred, five and sixty times the sun 
Over the earth its 'customed path has gone. 
Since I began mj- course. Much have I seen. 
When I was young, I clothed the earth in flowers 
Of loveliest hue, of sweetest fragrance. 
The cheerful notes of joyous birds were heard 
From leafy boughs, at early, dewy morn. 
Then did I cause more rich luxuriance still, 
As all my vigor woke. Rich, golden grain 
Waved in the harvest fields; and earth's green robes 
Bowed to the mower's scythe. I onward went; 
And strewed along my pathway luscious fruits 
To gratify the appetite of man. 
Then I grew old; and the green leaves assumed 
Rich auburn tints and yellow hues; faded, 
Withered, fell; and the snows of age came down 
Upon the brown earth, and the naked boughs. 
I have heard the merry notes of children, 
As they wandered 'mid my flowers and streamlets, 
Plucking with eager hands the fruits I gave. 
And I have witnessed silent, gushing tears; 
Tears for disappointed hopes, wounded pride, 
Broken friendships, loved ones gone, follies wrought. 
I have heard the tale of a first deep love 
Whispered in the fair maiden's listening ear; 



12 

And her young light heart has been wooed and won, 

I have seen the bride to the altar led; 

The beautiful infant, yet unt^ullied 

By this cold, bustling world, laid low in dust. 

Ah! the young and the old hundreds, thousands, 

Who greeted my youth witli joy and gladness, 

Xow are not. I have seen, too. the black crimes 

Of the dark-hearted S(ms olnu'n, on which 

The light of day, and human eyes, looked not. 

I have seen the acts of kindness, secret. 

Untold deeds of love, of self-denial, 

Sacrifice, recorded but in heaven. 

^ ^ 'h i^ ^ :;< jfj 

All these; and all that I have seen perforn.uMl, 
The good, the bad; all that has been suffej-ed 
And enjoyed; I carry with me. Faithful 
Are the records made. Whither I depart 
I bear them. They must be met hereafter." 
The midnight bell pealed on the ear. The voice 
Had ceased: the form had vanished. Then I knew 
The old year had forever gone, and half 
Of this, the nineteenth, century had passed. 
Its records sealed; its joj^s, its hopes, its fears. 
All ended. Hour for deep and solemn thought. 
This hour approaches. Who will fancy then, 
They hear the voice of the departing j^ear? 

anville, Dec. 28, 1850. 



13 
•BROTHER. COr^lE HCIVIE, COIVIE HCiVSE." 1851. 



How iiuiiiy lovely, quiet homes within thy bordeis 

Oh Indiana. 

There eoines a voice to Fancy's ear, 
i^'roni the home of my happy youth; 

1 think of tried and loved ones dear, 
AVhose s})irits glow with joy and truth, 

And deem this wish is spoken, 

(Jf love another token, 

"Brother, come home, come home." 

There is one, with a manly form, 

An active mind, a skillful hand; 
A heart of kindness, noble, warm, 

The second in a brothers' band. 
I listen. "Why so long avs^ay? 

Oh brother, what enticing charm. 
Still causes you from home to stay? 

Come, view again our rich broad farm; 
Come, plunge within our lovely lake. 

Its waters yet are pure and clear; 
Come, aid us the sweet hay to make. 

A¥e'll shoot the grouse, we'll hunt the deer. 
All still is bright and beaming, 
Our home in beauty gleaming; 

Brother, come home, come home." 



14 



Another, with high, radiant brow, 

Quick, sparkling mind, and kindling eyes, 
Appears, in thought, before me now. 

'^Say brother, will that morning rise, 
When we shall mount our gallant steeds, 

Go forth and take a healthful ride, 
Behold our fertile, flowery meads, 

The beauties of our prairies wide? 
The haunts which you have loved remain, 

The calm retreats, the shady grove; 
(Changes are few round our domain;) 

And through them we again will rove. 
The wild fowls yet flj^ o'er us; 
They swim the lake before us; 

Brother, come home, come home." 

A third there is, with thoughtful mien, 

AVith lively feelings, tender heart; 
A robust youth, whose glance is keen, 

Formed to admire rich works of art. 
''Come, brother, to our home agaih; 

Lay by awhile a teacher's care. 
Forsake the bustling scenes of men. 

And breathe our pure refreshing air. 
A 'study' nice we'll fix for you. 

Choice books are still upon the shelf, 
At morn we'll rise, fresh as the dew, 

And 4n the mines of knowledge' delve; 
Imagination glowing; 
On us her light bestowing; 

Brother, come home, come home." 



15 



A gentle girl, so bright, so fair, 

So beautirul to me, so kind, 
To speak of her I may not dare. 

Lest there should seem a trifling mind. 
A gentle girl, what will she say? 

"Brother, I should be very glad, 
Now, in this flowery month of May, 

To greet you here. Say are you sad? 
We have plucked the flowers of beauty, 

And we have woven garlands bright; 
Brother, is it not our duty. 

To love the lovely? Is it right? 
Our pi-airie now is charming, 
Delightful work is farming; 

Brother, come home, come home." 

Another, and the youngest too; 

Of her alike I may not speak. 
Oh gentle sister, what would you? 

"Come brother, now our quiet seek; 
Visit your home and friends again; 

For you I'll cull tlie flowrets sweet, 
The fairest in the woody glen; 

So glad, if we could only meet. 
The snow-white water lilies grow. 

As they have grown in days ot yore; 
Their beauty, fragrance, well you know, 

For you have gathered them before. 
Our flocks and herds are lowing, 
There's milk and honey flowing; 

Brother, come home, come home." 



16 



Brothers, sisters, I hope to coine, 

Your fiowei's, and traits, and i)K'asures share: 
Yours, I know, is a happy home. 

Scarcely touched by sorrow and eare. 
But I hear the voice of duly. 

Forbidding me a quick return. 
And I hope no Joy. no beauty, 

Will lead me e\n' that voice to spurn. 
These flowers, now blooming, soon will lade, 

The woods and meads be decked with otliers. 
Then, if not in earth's bosom laid, 

I hope to meet you, sisters, biothers. 
But oh! that home in Heaven! 
There may we meet, all seven: 

Brothers, sistei's, seek Home. 



Franklin Springs. Ala., ^lay, 1851. 



My Mocking Bird. 1851. 



I caught a royal prize, 
A bird with brilliant eyes. 

With plumage fair and bright; 
Child of the ''Sunnj^ South," 
Bird of the mocking mouth, 

I held it with delight. 



17 



Into the house I bore, 

To view my foundling o'er, 

And nurse this mocker true; 
Alas! it left my hands. 
Forsook those friendly bands, 

Into the fire it flew. 

Vain then was human aid! 
Though efforts kind were made. 

Its little life to save; 
But soon the glowing embers 
Crisped all its tender members, 

'Twas rescued for the grave! 

Alas! poor little bird! 

No one th}^ wailing heard. 

Cruel, but quick thy death; 
Hushed soon thy melody, 
Soon was thy spirit free. 

Quick fled thy little breath. 

And now, my bright, lost treasure. 
Could I in sweeter measure. 

Like thee, a carol sing; 
Soft, plaintive, sad and free. 
It should thy requiem be. 

Bird of the spotted wing! 

Grove Hill, December, 1851. 



18 

Grove Hill Academy Hymns. 1851. 



A Morning Song. S. M. 

Our Father, look thou clown. 

In merc}^ from above; 
And grant thy Holy Spirit's power 

To fill our hearts with love. 



We thank thee for the light, 

For life, and strength, and health; 

We own thy sovereign power bestows, 
Rank, honor, beauty, wealth. 

We ask thee not for these; 

But help us through the day, 
Wisdom's rich stores to treasure up, 

And teach us how to pray. 

And while our morn of life 
Is free from sorrow's sigh, 

Prepare our hearts by grace divine, 
To dwell with thee on high. 

Praise to God. 7s. 

We, thy creatures here on earthy 
Prone to folly from our birth, 
We would offer praise to thee. 
Lord of Heaven, Earth, and Sea. 



19 

Glorious and great art thou; 

'Neath thy power the mightiest bow; 

Cherubim and Seraphim, 

In thy dazzling light are dim. 

What are we! earth's children weak! 
Let us now thy blessing seek; 
Shield us oh thou King of kings, 
Bear thou us on eagle's wings. 

, MoENiNG Devotion. C. M. 

Help us to praise and honor thee, 

Hol}^ and blessed One; 
Teach us the path of purity, 

Teach us to love thy Son. 

May w^e not bow to idols vain; 

Let not our spirits cling. 
With earth's affections' uncurbed rein, 

To a forbidden thing. 

Into temptation lead us not; 

Our God and Father be; 
Wash from our souls each sinful blot, 

Fit us to dwell with thee! 



20 

A Morning Hymn. lis. 

Almighty, all holy, and merciful One, 
A Shield to the righteous, a Guardian, and Sun, 
Have mercy upon us and lead us aright; 
Protect us and bless us with heavenly light. 

Our proud and our stubborn hearts wilt thou subdue. 
Forgive us and cleanse us, create us anew, 
With truth and with virtue our spirits adorn, 
And fit for earth's duties in life's rosy morn. 

We thank thee, our Father, that still we are blest, 
That sorrow and anguish disturb not our rest; 
But life, now so joyous, has dark hours in store, 
Then grant us thy blessing we ask for no more. 



21 

A MESSAGE FROM T. H. B. TO E. H. W., GROVE HILL, ALA. 1863. 



"Seven boys and girls are we; 
Two of us in the chunth-yard lie, 
Beneath the church-yard tree." 

Beloved sister, tidings sad I have, 

Which my hear^t longs to send to you and yours. 

How can I send it? Between us and you 

Lie the red fields of battle. Fearful strife 

Is raging now, and precious life-bldod flows. 

The written messengers of joy and grief 

Pass not that line of strife. The lightning spark, 

Though trained to do man's bidding, cannot flash 

To you, as once it could, the thrilling words, 

The message glad or sad. Around your clime 

The might of human power, just power and right, 

We call it, guards and barriers strong has placed, 

Which shut out knowledge. Ah, my sister dear. 

Too long, too long the dwellers in your land 

Have shut out knowledge. True of them it is, 

Once what they could they would not know, and now 

What they would know they cannot. Nor can we. 

War rages. Who has seen such strife before? 

So man would have it, and so God permits. — 

Since God permits 'tis well. Wise ends no doubt 

He will secure, for over all the strife. 

And carnage, and despair, and gloom of this 

Wild warfare which man's passions seem to rule. 



22 

He holds a firm all powerful grasp, ho who 

Is just, yet marcifal and good, a Judge, 

A gracious Father, an avenging God. 

God rules, and He is in this strife. — 'Tis well. 

But now, my sister, grief is pressing down 
Upon my heart. I long to let you know. 
Once we could weep together. IS ow apart. 
AVhat friend or foe will bear these words to you? 
The youngest of us seven, Henrie dear, 
Has ceased to Jive on earth. Of life not tired, 
Just fitted, as it seemed to us, her place 
To take amid its toil, and din and care, 
And do her part so nobly we had hoped. 
In life's great battle, she was called away. 
How can I say that Henrietta's dead? 
But she is dead. That mystery is solved. 
She knows the meaning of that solemn word. 
I do not know why such should die so young. 
And we have wept for Henrie. Many tears 
My eyes have shed; and I am glad the power 
Is given to me to weep. I envy not 
The stern of heart from w hom no touch of v\^oe, 
Nor thrill of joy, "bids the sweet waters flow." 
And you will weep, your tears like drops of rain 
Will fall, if in this vale of tears you learn 
That sister Henrie too has "gone before." 



23 

A brief sad message came to me along 
The silent wii-e. I hastened homewards. Soon 
A thousand miles were passed, but ere our home 
I reached, tlie burial train moved slowly forth. 
We met; within our pastor's home, beside 
Our house of prayer, father, mother, sister, 
Bi'other; within that Sabbath home I met 
The dead. Oh sister, you can think what grief, 
What sadness came upon me thus to meet. 
I looked on that loved face; but those dark eyes, 
So like your own, sparkling and flashing once 
With so much brilliancy 'mid life's bright scenes. 
Looked not upon me. The long lids were closed, — 
Gently, but firmly closed. They heeded not 
My presence. Slumber deep was there; yet calm 
And sweet the dead face seemed. I never looked 
On one to me so beautiful. I touched 
Her cheek which used to glow with life, and health, 
And beauty. But that cheek was cold, so cold. 
To the warm, gentle pressure of my hand. 
Oh sister, death is very cold! — How cold 
Death is I never knew before. My liand 
Once more I pressed upon her own; but now 
That kind right hand which had performed so much 
In deeds of love for others, never tired. 
Had surely lost its cunning. No response. 
Kg pressure it returned. It never failed 
Before. Upon her "marble brow," though cold, 



24 

I pressed my own warm lips. Why should I not, 

Though she was dead? We had not met for years, 

And nature's sympathies are very strong. 

You would, had 3^ou been there; and so would three 

I need not name; but thej^ were far away. 

I therefore gave alone that last, fond pledge 

Of earthly love. A kiss more sacred, pure, 

And tender, m}^ lips never gave. The last 

To her, from all upon the earth. My right 

It seemed to be, for she the youngest was, 

And I the tirst-born. Oh how sweet to think 

In that sad hour, between her soul and mine 

No cloud had ever come. One pure, true love 

Had knit our hearts together, and in thought, 

And word, and feeling, each had done to each 

No wrong. How happ}^ they who thus can feel 

In presence of the dead. Why do not all 

Sisters and brothers live as we have done? 

Oh happy, happy home! sweet type of heaven. 

It was our wish that Henrie still might live, 
Enjoy some longer here that pleasant home 
In v^hich God cast her lot, and from her heart, 
So sunny, shed forth longer still, rich joy 
On all around her; enter active life, 
The active life of woman, in some sphere 
Of quiet labors spend the years of toil 
Allotted here to many, and do good, 



25 

Much good to others, winning for herself 
Just meeds of praise as she should gain success, 
And thus adorn the Gospel which she loved. 
Such was our wish. But such was not God's will. 
His will is right. We bow to his decree. 

She has achieved success, if, as we trust, — 
If, as we cannot doubt, she rests above. 
What can a child of earth gain more? Faithful 
To the end of life she proved, — so faithful 
To her baptismal vows; and Jesus came, 
She felt his presence with her; — came to take 
Her home to rest until the morning dawns. 
A crown of righteousness he then will give. 
She rests and she enjoys. And side by side 
With our loved brother has her dust been laid. 
You stood among us when we laid him there. 
There may those forms of cla}^ repose till day, — 
The near approaching day, I sometimes think, 
Of the bright resurrection morning, breaks 
Along the sky. Kest brother; sister rest. 
We too ere long shall sleep, and may we wake 
With you in glory; wake to join the throng, — 
The countless, blood-bought throng of kings and priests 
That shall with Jesus reign, and dwell with him 
Forever. Oh my sister dear, happy 
Those parents who train children for the skies. 
Cedar Lake, Ind., February 1863. 

. 4 



26 
IN MEMORY OF JIMMIE H. COFFIN. 1863. 



Six years of age, who was killed by the cars at Newiou 
>arre, June 22. 1863. 

?L little gentle boy, who had been at school all day, 
^Vent from his mother's side one eventide to play: 
With his beloved playmates he sported pleasantly, 
>o full of life, and gladness, and of childish glee. 

STone thought of danger near him the youngest of that band, 
^'or then they would have held fast to that little hand; 
Jis mother and his sister had not a thought or fear, 
rhat they on earth no more his pleasant voice would hear. 

^one thought, nor could have thought, that ere that day 

was done 
rhat young and gentle soul would be "beyond the sun," 
'Forever and forever with those just souls and true," 
XL Paradise above beyond the ether blue. 

>o from his pleasant home with his brothers forth he went — 
^ messenger perhaps God had already sent — 
le went a little distance and reached the rail-road track; 
rhe cars! Pale, mangled, dead, from thence one bore 
him back. 



27 

Death in one brief moment came and took him by surprise, 
Those swift cars o'er him passed before his brothers' eyes: 
They stopped; and in a moment his father left the train, 
To have his spirit rent with anguish and with pain. 
How terrible it seems in an instant thus to die! 
And what a sight was that to meet a father's eye! 
But God is good and kind, and he deals with us in love; 
He knows best how and when to take us up above. 
If we do but safely reach that bright and blissful shore, 
Where sorrow and where sin will never harm us more, 
I'm sure it matters not now God takes the spirit back,. 
Whether from beds of pain, or from the rail-road track. 
And when that glad morning comes that bids the dead 

arise. 
And they are ''caught up" to meet Jesus in the skies, 
I'm sure it will not matter 'mid all that thrilling joy, 
How or when death came and took this beloved boy. 

Newton Centre, July, 1863. 



28 
THANKSGIVING HYMN. 



Note— After the fall of Vicksbuig, and the capture of 
Fortress Monroe, in 1863, the President recommended the 
)bservance of a day of Thanksgiving. The following hymn 
vas sung at. Crown Point, during the services of that day, 
September 11, 1863: 

God of our fathers, now to thee, 

Our grateful homage we would pay; 

Thou leadest on the bond, the free; 
Help us to praise thy might to-day. 

Thou lovest right, thou hatest wrong; 

By thee the bondmen's chains are riven; 
Beleagured town and fortress strong. 

Into our hands by thee are given. 

For this we praise thy matchless power, 
For this we lift our hearts to thee; 

In each exultant, joyous hour. 

Do thou our Guide and Fortress be. 

We recognize thy powerful hand; 

We bow before thy holy might; 
Oh be thou gracious to our land, 

Oh bring us forth to noon-tide light. 



29 

"WILLIE E. OKEIGHTON." 

Note - In the fall of 1863 a postal route was opened that 
letters from tlie South mip:ht pass through Fortress Monroe, 
subject to the inspection of Government officials. Such a 
letter from Mis. E. H. Woodard, of Grove Hill, reached Cedar 
LaUe. Ir was cnrefully worded, announced the death in 
Mississippi a few w. ek- before of Willie Creighton, and ad<led : 
"He left home in April last, just eighteen, a tall, handsome 
youth, to join his brother Hiram who has been absent two 
years; he soon contracted disease and died." 



So death has come again, oh restless death ! 

And snatched away trom earth another life. 
Among the thousands yielding up their breath, 

During this time of anguish and of strife. 
Our youngest brother Willie too has gone to sleep. 
What can his mother do but o'er his loss to weep? 

The news comes through the Fortress. Words are few; 

A line or two to pierce our hearts with grief; 
A speck of cloud within a sky all blue; 

A word that claims our instant, full belief. 
We fill the picture up, we hear his parting sigh; 
Away from his loved home we see our Willie die. 



30 

N"ot one of seven sisters could be near, 
To press a tender kiss on his fair cheek; 

Beside his dying couch to shed a tear; 
Or cheering, hopeful words of love to speak: 

But 'tis some joy to think, a brother kind and good, 

Beside him, in those last, sad, trying moments stood. 

Thus he has passed away, that fresh bright boy, 
Whom busy thought brings up before the mind, 

He who was always full of life and joy, 

Sportive yet gentle, cheerful, true, and kind; 

We mourn his early loss, our tears unbidden flow; 

We taste again that cup which holds so much of woe. 



31 

A NEW PSALM OF LIFE. 1869. 



Our life is what we make it. 
Then if we could only know, 
How to take the ebb and flow 
Of the mighty currents round, 
Bearing swiftly, without sound, 
To the dark unfathomed deep, 
It might be grand and glorious. 
Death is not an endless sleep. 

Listen j to the words, ''What cheer?" 
Cheer to thee amid the gloom! 
Chee to thee amid the strife! 
Through the many struggles here, 
That may lead to endless life! 
Through the dark, and through the bright, 
Those still steadfast to the right. 
Whisper to each other cheer. 

Ah! 'tis not alone to breathe, 
Not to eat and drink alone, 
That make up life, something more — 
Things that live beyond time's shore. 
Life is more, yes, more than meat, 
More than raiment too, is life. 
Sit at the Great Teacher's feet, 
Learn the worth of toil and strife. 



32 

Yes, life is what we make it; 

Our life is as we take it, 

Marked with briglitness, love, and joy, 

Worthless with some base allo}^ 

And alas! how very mean, 

How sad, how vainlj' wasted, 

Its sweets almost untasted, 

Is the life of man}- a queen. 

From the highest to the low, 
From the throne to peasant's cot, 
Few solve aright life's mystery. 
Few that share a blessed lot. 
For life is what we make it, 
And we do not make it bright; 
Our life is as we take it. 
And we do not take it right. 

It ma}^ lead us up on high. 

Through the blue and lovely sky, 

To the gift of a white stone. 

To a super-human throne. 

To a new name written bright. 

And to mansions fair as light; 

To the gates of endless day, ^ 

Where no loved ones pass away. 



33 

MYTH AND TRUTH; OR, PAST AND FUTURE GLORY. 1869. 



I have read the ancient stories, 
Fables, legends, hction, truth; 

Read of many wondrous glories, 
Told of nations in their youth. 

Read of Eastern pomp and splendor, 
Read of warriors true and bold: 

Of a noted witch of Endor, 

And a temple bright with gold. 

Read of peace and read of slaughter, 
Written in the Book of books; 

Moses found b}^ Pharaoh's daughter, 
Strong in faith and fair in looks. 

Of the Shepherd boy so fearless, 
Smiting with a sling and stone, 

'Mong the warrior poets peerless. 
King at length on Judah's throne. 

Read of gifted prophets many. 

Those so grand, and true, and wise, 

Unexcelled on earth by any, 
Seeing distant glories rise. 

Prophets, poets, seers, and sages, 

Shepherds, soldiers, priests, and kings; 
Earth still holds these deathless pages, 
Earth still with their record rings. 
5 



34 . 

I have read the myths and fables, 

That arose in ancient time, 
Like that tale of Augean stables. 

Fictions most of love and crime. 

Persian, Hindoo, Scald or Norseman, 
All these have their legends old; 

Komans tell of two twin horsemen, 
Pollux, Castor, swift and bold. 

Romans tell of many a hero, 

Who ha^s borne him well in fight; 

Long before the bloodj^ T^ero, 
Rome had fabled gods of might. 

Greek and Arab lack not fable. 
And they give us stories rare, 

Arthur's Knights and his Round Table, 
Scarcely with them can compare. 

Myths and legends all might perish, 
They are powerless on the heart; 

Sacred truth the world should cherish, 
Never with it can it part. 

Still in future myths may linger, 
Will be read by students o'er, 

But there points an index finger, 
Ever to the sacred lore; 



35 

Saying to earth's children ever, 
'^Listen to these words divine, 

Lay aside the prophets never, 
Future glories soon will shine." 

Buried in the depths of ages. 

Lies the greatness myths declare; 

Promised on the sacred pages. 

Future greatness looms forth fair. 

Let earth's children read and ponder, 
Let them earnest workers be, 

For the day dawns, see it yonder! 
Soon earth's millions will be free. 

Soon will come the Latter Glory; 

Ours a glory yet to be, 
When each fabled mythic story 

Sinks beneath oblivion's sea. 



The golden thread of living truth. 
In the bright years of happy youth, 
Should into life be woven strong 
While flows the warp, that life, along. 



36 
FOR M. J. B. 



Wiiiten and read at the marriapre of Dr. Andrew S. Cutler 
and Miss Maiy Jane Ball at Cedar Lake, December 16, 1869. 

Oi>a lovely prairie in the State of Ind, 
In a pleasant home well sheltered from the wind, 
Two little Howers appeared not many years ago. 
Growing in the sunshine and dreading not the snow. 

Like the lily opening, like the rose, they grew^ 

Showing forth alike the sweet, the pure, the true: 

Like twins indeed they seemed on one rich rose stalk set, 

Fed by the self-same showers, by the same dew-drops wet. 

P'ast they grew and lovely thus growing side by side; 
But lovely things and pleasant may not long abide; 
The one was taken up within the gates of light. 
The other blooms in beauty here with us to-night. 

Said I two little flowers? Oh no, two gentle birds, 
Came to that prairie home, I change two little words; 
One came in glowing autumn, mid October's sun; 
The other in December, this the youngest one. 

I know not whence they came, but I am very sure 
They seemed to us like doves and like the ro])ins pure. 
Were they birds of passage? or were thej^ birds of song? 
One flew to Paradise; may this one tarry long. 



37 

Did I Hay flowers and birds? They were my sisters dear. 
Who for some twenty years were seldom severed here; 
Alike they grew in knowledge and alike in love, 
Were they gentle visitants sent us from above? 

They were the household pets, the 3^oungest of our band; 
(There are not "seven" to-night together here to stand;) 
It has been said, the youngest never do grow old; 
'Tis sure that loving natures never need grow cold. 

Joy for that flown and freed one. Perfect joy and love 
Are where we trust she dwells among the good above. 
And joy to this young bride, unmingled by earth's fear; 
Though perfect joy and bliss are not the dwellers here. 

Yet to sister Mary and brother Andrew joy! 
May life for them be bright witli little to annoy. 
No tears are shed to-night around our household tree; 
For hope, and peace, and love, go with the truly free. 



The road to Fame is sometimes rough and steep; 

No palace rail-road car can reach her temple's gate; 
And often we must be content to creep, 

To gain those dizzy heights on paths unknown to fate. 



38 
A FAREWELL TO OUR CEDAR LAKE HOMESTEAD. 1b70. 



To-Jiiorrovv that loved spot we last called home 

Into tlie hands of strangers passes; I 

Cannot but feel sad, although we freely 

Grave it up, freely signed the title deeds. 

For many years have clustered round that spot 

The strong home feelings. A true home is dear 

On earth, well called our brightest type of heaven. 

Farewell to thee, thou home. No more within 

Thy rooms, the scenes of pleasant intercourse 

So long; vocal so oft with praj^er and praise; 

Desecrated never yet by midnight 

Noisy revels; — no more shall we repose, 

Or rest, or enter, but as stranger guests. 

Thy present owners will not know thy full 

And blessed memories. Farewell to all 

Those rooms, and quiet nooks, and last of all 

To those thrice hallowed by the peaceful death 

Of dear ones; we (;annot forget that ther-e 

Sweet Henrie, and gentle brother Charlie, 

And an aged father, loved and honored, 

Looked their last upon us; and hallowed too 

By sister Mary's joyous bridal houi", 

In the bright hues of which so late we met. 

Hallowed by grief so great and joy so pure, 

How can we thee ibrget, home of the past! 



39 

Farewell to thee, bright grove. How many times 

Long years ago into thy shade I came, 

Laying the sharp scythe by to rest from toil, 

And drink from that cool spring, now and for years 

Vanished beneath the surface. And how fair 

Those youthful fanciers and romantic thoughts. 

Viewing thy possibilities for rare 

Wild beauty, planning then to make thee mine, 

Thinking how loved and gentle ones would come 

And sportive children play amid thy shades, 

And laugh along thj^ flowing waters there. 

And they did come; jungle and dell they came. 

Almost beyond my fairest youthful thoughts 

They came, and wandered in that very spot, 

And in their youth and joy and freshness they 

Kejoiced amid thy beauty, where, from toil 

Reposing, I in boyhood built air castles. 

Strange that so many of my early dreams. 

My day dreams, ever fair, have been so well 

Accomplished! But these and I, as owners 

Of the soil, as having any heirship 

Left in thee, amid thy summer foliage, 

Or through thy hazel mazes, or in dell 

So bright and sunny, or in jungle 

Dense and dark, where earliest spring flowers grew, 

Will roam, and play, and dream no more. And so 

Farewell. Farewell to all. 'Tis winter now; 

But I have known thit.e early, glad, spring freshness; 



40 

I know thy summer beauty; and I know 
Thy autumn richness; I know thee in all 
Seasons well. Thou art the last of those rich 
Acres broad, last of the three plantations 
Lying near to thy clear waters, glorious 
Lake of the Red Cedars, from out our hands 
To pass. The three have gone to strangers now 
And thus all my ancestral homes of old 
Have all, save one, passed, one by one, to hands 
Of others. Our halls are held by strangers. 
There was no English law to hold and keep 
Them for the first-born, and they passed; passed not 
Because they must, but as each generation 
Chose. We are Americans, and so we 
Love to change and roam, and open pathways 
For the feet of others; and all preferred, 
Though pleasant, fair, and lovely all these homes 
Have been, each has preferred, all to go forth 
And find new seats, and found new homes for them 
And for their children. This is our custom, 
If not Anglo-Saxon law; and, thus far, 
Peace, and love, and hope seem to go with us. 
And therefore, last of all the Cedar Lake 
Possessions, spot my father last called home, 
Meadowsand fields and woodlands, orchard, house, 
Flowers, fruits, jungle and dell, and crystal well, 
Farewell, r hopeful, yet a long farewell. 
January 4, 1870. 



41 

A HYMN. C. M. 



Written in West Creek township on the road south of 
Mr Marvin's. 

A faith I have, a growing faith 
In Jesus Christ's own word; 
I look to him for righteousness, 

I own him as my Lord. 
A hope I have, a blessed hope, 

That when this life is o'er 
I shall be with the blood-washed throng 

Upon the shining shore. 
A love I have, a constant love, 

Kindled within my breast; 
A foretaste, as it seems to me. 

Of the eternal rest. 
Father, I lift my heart to thee; 
I thank thee that thy grace 
To me has ever been vouchsafed 

That I might seek thy face. 
Thy face I sought, thy love received, 

What need I ask for more? 
Earth and its snares will soon depart; 
Thee ever I'll adore. 



42 
INVITATION TO PRAYER. 1869. 



[for g. e. b.] 

Player moves the aim that moves the world. 

In childhood's tearful hour, 
When clouds of sorrow lower, 
When anguish deep hath power, 
Pray; yes, pray. 

When friends are kind and true: 
Earth wears her brightest hue, 
All gloom is hid from view^ 
Pray; yes, pray. 

My child, if thou wouldst seek, 
The blessing of the meek, 
And strength when thou art weak, 
Pray; yes, pray. 

My child, if thou wouldst flee 
The foes that lurk for thee, 
And through earth's snares pass free, 
Pray; yes, pray. 



43 

In memory of Liirina H. Vinoedge, daughter of James T. 
Vinnedge, and member of Mis. Ball's infant class, born Nov. 
10, 1869, who died at, Crown Point, March 22, 1877. 

FOR THE CLASS. 



But seven years of age, and laid beneath the sod; 
A gentle little girl, her soul has gone to God; 
In Paradise she shares the gracious Saviour's love, 
And loving him we too shall go to dwell above. 

A message for her came, came from the Lord of life; 
Permission came to leave this world of toil and strife; 
She lay upon her couch and closed her dreamy eyes, 
She partly waked, then slept to waken in the skies. 

Her slender little form, robed in the spotless white, 
Was laid out to repose through death's uncertain night, 
Little class-mates went, and her loving teacher dear, 
To see the folded bud that might not blossom here. 

Within the open coffin there at rest she lay; 

One scarce could think that form was only lifeless clay; 

So quiet and so peaceful in her narrow bed. 

She seemed a weary child resting her graceful head. 

Death is not often lovely to a human eye, 
Nor often beautiful beneath earth's changing sky; 
But beauty rare and sweet was resting on her face, 
From which not even death could steal away the grace. 



44 

As in some ancient forest in a lonely glen, 
Far from the busy world, the world of toiling men, 
We sometimes find a wild flower exquisitely fair, 
Glad'ning with its beauty lonely wanderers there — 

So, in her village home, she la}^ awhile at rest, 
Without the gentle motion of the heaving breast, 
In a wondrous loveliness charming to the heart, 
Of God's signet telling stamped on the mortal part. 

The cheeks, of course, were bloodless and the lips were pale, 
Sharing not the glow of the lily of the vale; 
But few sculptors' chisels can finei features trace, 
Than the well set lineaments ol this dead young face; 

And a soft light was resting on each curtaining lid. 
Which a once sunny eye from look of love now hid. 
And the long dark lashes seemed in such sweet repose, 
You'd think the eyes must open when the sun arose. 

Here was that rarest beauty, here that peace so sweet, 
As though the ej^es had closed to wait for angels' feet; 
But death had sealed forever each soft curtaining lid, 
No more on earth to waken till the Saviour bid. 

No painter with his skill was present on that day, 
To trace that peaceful beauty; so this simple lay, 
Simple and childlike if it be, to help us keep 
In mind how peaceful yet may be our own long sleep. 



46 

When on the summer morns in Sabbath School we meet, 
No more we'll hear the sound of Rina's coming feet, 
But we can think of her within the Jasper wall. 
And seek the Saviour's love to rest upon us all. 



In memory of.IulhiB. Summers, often called Lulu, a mem- 
ber of thn North Street Sunday school, as fair and lovely as a 
child of earth could well he, born in Crown Point Nov. 27, 
1870, who dind July 26, 1877. 



We lost another little one. 

So beautiful and bright; 
Her eyes were like some costly gem 

Or like the stars of night. 

Her heart was full of tenderness, 

As earthly paths she trod, 
And by some secret "influence sweet," 

Seemed "upward drawn to God." 

Her feet seemed very early turned 

In Wisdom's ways to go; 
And through the Saviour's righteousness, 

Her robes are now like snow. 

Her lips were like some opening bud, 

And oft in music low, 
"What a friend we have in Jesus," 

Would in sweet accents flow. 



46 



Her form was symmetry and grace; 

Her heart was made for love; 
And we know not the radiance, 

In which she dwells above. 

Her mind a fountain fresh and clear, 
Of sparkling, childlike thought; 

Her soul, a jewel for our King, 
Was long ago blood-bought. 

She looked upon the earth and sky. 
She gladdened one bright home, 

And then she went to Paradise, 
Up through the great blue dome. 

And there this fair and lovely child. 

Child of immortal mold, 
Will look for us to enter in 

And walk the streets of gold. 

And we 'mid all the shining throngs, 
Will know her loving heart, 

Will know her beaming eyes of light, 
And meet no more to part. 

So two have now before us gone, 
And here we learn the way. 

Life's duties nobly to perform, 
And reach the endless day. 



47 



Hymn sun^ at the Burial Services: 

Safe must this loved one be, 

Father of love and light; 
We trust ourselves, our all, with thee; 

Thy home above is bright. 
And in that home so bright, 

With dear ones gone before, 
We're sure she feels a rich delight, 

Sure she will grieve no more. 

Thus safely may we trust. 

In thee, oh Saviour, Friend; 
And we will plant this lovely dust, 

To wait that glorious end; 
Till thou shalt come again. 

And give it second birth; 
Till thou in bliss shalt come again, 

And reign o'er all the earth. 

But here we breathe a prayer. 

Our Father, God, to thee; 
Commending to th}^ loving care, 

One whom thou now dost see. 
One 'mid the mountains wild. 

The father of this dust. 
Himself a grieved and wand'ring child, 

Needing in thee to trust. 



48 



When the full meaning falls 

Upon his bleeding heart, 
That, safe within the Jasper Walls, 

Where loved ones never part, 
His darling Lulu passed, — 

Oh Saviour be thou near, 
Show him how long thy love will last, 

Remove each doubt and fear. 

And may this precious child 

Lead him close up to thee. 
For thou wast orice the Glorious Child 

For all humanity. 
And now, enthroned above. 

Thou canst our sorrows feel, 
Oh Saviour, full of pitying love. 

Do thou our sorrows heal. 



STRAY THOUGHTS. 



Written Nov. 16, 1877, Friday afternooD, durlLg three and 
a half miles travel between the Woods Bluff road and Clarke's 
store, in Alabama, the pommel of the pony's saddle being the 
writing desk, 

The world is dark with none to love; 

The world is dull with naught to doj 
And without light from heaven above, 

In vain earth's pathways we pursue. 



49 

There must be hope for better things, 
There must be hope for brighter days 

Wliile round frail joj^s affection clings 
And we press on in toilsome ways. 

There must be hope to cheer the soul, 
If we surmount the cares of life. 

And keep the wounded spirit whole. 
And lose not courage in the strife. 

And hope there may be, for us all, 
Hope to the soul like anchor strong, 

A hope not dim, nor frail, nor small, 
A hope for aye and ages long. 

Long reaching, on and on for aye, 
A hope that gilds life's darkest night. 

That shines along the loneliest way, 

With beams of heaven-born loveliest light. 

And work there is for all to do. 
Work suited to each heart and hand, 

Abiding work, secure and true, 
In every corner of our land. 

And there is ever One to love, 

The Good One, Father, Saviour, Friend, 
Who sends to us the Heavenly Dove, 

Whose love for us need never end. 



50 

And there are hearts to love and bless, 
Sweet lips to sing some soothing lays, 

Eartli-forms to love and to caress, 
Kind friends to cheer us all our days. 

These may not wear the brightest hues, 
Of earth-born beauty, beauty rare. 

But we may always find and choose. 
Those that are gentle, good, and fair. 

Then let us work, and love, and dare. 
Earth is not dull nor dark nor lone, 

\¥e sow, in hope that we shall share 
Rich hai'vests from the seed well sown. 



TO MINNIE. 1877. 



Eight yeti:t of age. daughter of the Hon. J. S. and Mr». 
Alice Dickinson, of Grove Hill, Alabama. 

I'm glad I've seen you, Minnie, 

And touched j-our auburn hair, 
And looked into your dove-like eyes. 

And on your cheeks so fair. 

I'm glad you live here, Minnie, 

Though in a world of care, 
To help to make some pathways bright, 

And help some griefs to share. 



51 



I hope you'll learn well, Minnie, 
And seek for words of truth. 

And treasure up bright gems of thought 
In these sweet years of youtli. 

I trust you'll right do, Minnie, 

And ever shun the wrong, 
For truth and right, eonibined in one, 

Forevermore are strong. 

May you be happy, Minnie, 

In loving what is fair, 
And spend your years of earthly life, 

Outside the clouds of care. 

But best of all now, Minnie, 
I hope you'll love one Friend, 

Who loves his own disciples here, 
With love that does not end. 

And if you love him, Minnie, 

The Saviour of our race. 
He'll fill your heart with living love, 

And grant you his rich grace. 

And then in Heaven, Minnie, 

In Paradise above, 
You can learn at length the meaning, 

Of ^^everlasting love." 



52 

A LETTER. 



My dearest, darling one, 
Great blessing of my life, 

Child reared beneath this sun, 
My own sweet, chosen wife; — 

It seems to me I hear 
A little plaint of sadness, 

Because I am not near 

On Christmas, day of gladness; 

Because I've staid away 

So long from home and thee; 

Because, day after day, 

My form thou canst not see; 

Because I tarry here. 

In this bright sunny clime. 

Where many friends are near. 
And swiftly flies the time; — 

It seems to me, I say. 

As though my ears could hear, 
A little plaintive lay, 

That breathes in sadness drear. 

My darling, do not grieve. 

This air is soft and mild, 
But can one e'er believe 

It has my heart beguiled? 



53 

These woods are bright and green; 

These running streams are clear; 
The joyous birds are seen; 

But THOU, thoti art not near J 

And here are sunny eyes, 
And they seem fair to me, 

Their pleasant looks I prize, 
For they are near to thee. 

Dear kindred these of thine, 
Who of like blood partake; 

I call them also mine; 
I love thein for thy sake. 

But here awhile I tarry, 
If all my work were done. 

To see our Lillie marry. 
Beneath December's sun. 

And I have work on hand, 
This toilsome work of brain. 

Searching the records of this land, 
That once belonged to Spain. 

This /'land," I mean this South, 
At first called Flowery Earth, 

Where birds of mocking mouth, 
And bright eyed girls have birth. 



54 



It is not native beauty, 

That holds me like a dream; 

It is the voice of duty, 

Not sun, nor bird, nor stream. 

Then, darling, do not grieve, 
Because I am not near; 

Upon this Christmas eve 
I send thee words of cheer. 

My work is almost o'er, 
I hasten back to thee, 

I count the weeks no more, 
Swiit may the moments be. 

The evergreens I leave, 
'Mid which I love to roam; 

This little lay I weave, 
To say, /'m coming home. 

Grove Hill, Alabama, December, 1877. 



Written for David A. Chapman and Miss Lillie H, Wood 
ard and presented to them on their bridal eve. 

To-night within this home there's light; 

It is the light of love; 
And love forever will make bright 

The home that is above. 



55 



But earth-born love needs heaven-born grace; 

And when entwined in one, 
Then children of this human race 

Find happiness begun. 

Two lives within this home to-night, 

Are blending into one; 
True hearts and hands we here unite, 

Pledged till life's work is done. 

Once, in the land of Galilee, 

To Cana's village small, 
A Jewish marriage rite to see 

There came the Lord of all. 

Though not within a princely hall, 

That bride, I think, was fair; 
And Jesus Christ himself they call, 

And his disciples there. 

Here, in this broad and sunny land, 

Home of the fig and vine. 
Within that Saviour's love we stand, 

And on his arm recline. 

His blessing therefore we expect; 

In confidence we pray; 
His words we do not dare neglect, 

But heed them day by day. 



66 

Young wedded pair, I wish you joy^ 

Serene, abiding, true, 
Which nothing oartlily <?an destroy, 

Which kne will give to you. 

Trials and cares you're sure to meet^ 

It is the earthly lot; 
No path is trod by luiman feet. 

On which God sends them not. 

They may be light, they may be few, 
But should your hearts be tried, 

At fViith's pure altar love renew. 
And kneel down side by side: 

Yes, kneel and to your Father pray. 

And he will give you light. 
Light that can cheer your darkest day, 

And gild your gloomiest night. 

Remember what a power is love; 

Remember What a friend is God; 
Tho' sometimes from his throne above, 

He lays on us his chastening rod. 

Remember that to purify, 

To cleanse from earthly dross. 

Is one of the great reasons why 
He lays on us some cross. 



57 



Then bravely by each other stand, 

Be sti-ong when conies the "weary clay," 

And, as yon luive been joined in hand, 
So may you be in heart alway. 



IN MEMORY OF LILLIAN BALL OF CHICAGO. 



died at the 

horno of hej- ^grandfather Charles R. BaU, in Jefferson, Illinois, 
Sept. 5rh, 1878. at 1:30 P. M., aged four years. 

Another gentle, quiet one , 

Is laid away in sleep; 
Another lovely little one 

God's holy angels Iveep. 

Sweet Lillian has passed away. 

Passed to the world above, 
Tliat joyous world where Jesus dw ells, 

And all hearts glow with love. 

A shadow falls across her home, 

Her parents grieve and weep; 
But she has passed from grief and tears, 

And peaceful is her sleep. 
8 



68 



Our Saviour takes such little ones; 

For them we need not weep; 
For them no hearts on earth need ache, 

Nor lonely vigils keep. 

Tears for the living we may shed, 

And offer fervent prayer, 
That he who watches human steps, 

Will ever for them care. 

But joy for little gathered ones, 

The lilies of our race, 
The pearls that are to gleam above, 

Sharing the Saviour's grace." 

We miss them, much we miss them here, 
Our homes grow dark and lone, 

And therefore is it that we grieve, 
And that our crushed hearts moan. 

Such grief there is for Lillian, 
For thee, young graceful child, 

Thy father and thy mother's joy, 
So fair, so frail, so mild. 

Dust has been given back to dust, 

A grave for thee was made, 
And there, beneath the shining sun, 

Thy white-robed form was laid. 



59 



I would not rear a marble shaft, 

A niouunient to be, 
To bear sometime a mossy name, 

The name they gave to thee. 

But rather would I simply write, 

Upon some living page, 
With living and with loving heart 

Thy name, and death, and age. 

I'm sure not very long thou'llt sleep, 

That morn is drawing near,, 
That brightest morn earth ever knew, 

When Jesus will appear. 
Earth's stormy night has almost passed, 

The morning star will rise, 
Darkness and light are blending now, 

Along the eastern skies. 
Our Saviour Jesus, will appear, 

And he for thee will call; 
The archangel's voice, the trump of God, 

Will wake thee, Lillian Ball. 



60 
TO THE MEMORY OF MAGGIE TURNER. 



Youngest daughter of Hon. David Turner of Cro^n Point, 
Indiana, born Nov. 3, 1867, who died at the family home in 
Crown Point, January 9, 1879. 

Eleven years ago, last autumn, came, 

Into a village home, a little child; 
Her parents gave to her a pleasant name, 

And she from heavy cares their hearts beguiled: 
Sometimes no doubt she grieved, but often smiled, 

And grew in beauty as she grew in years; 
Grew rich in humor, yet continued mild; 

And seemed quite far removed from childish fears. 

How should she know that this is called a world of tears? 

She was the youngest, and around her heart, 

From brothers two and gentle sisters five, 
Love was entwined. Love makes it hard to part, 

When some must die and others still survive; 
But love forever must be kept alive, 

If we would know the joy of being blest; 
Love is an air in which the soul can thrive, 

If we love those on whom our hearts can rest: 

But parting hotirs must come. They come at God's behest. 



61 



Along the paths of chiklhood life she walked; 

At home, in school, at church, she filled her place; 
Cheerful her flow of spirit when she talked, 

And winsome also with sweet childhood's grace, 
Her budding youth was coming on apace. 

She had been taught in prayer each day to bow. 
Had learned that she must run the Christian race, 

Had learned that she must seek Christ's favor now. 

And that a glorious crown might one day press her brow. 

Then she lay down to die. 'Twas winter time; 

Cold was the air and white with snow the ground; 
The summer birds within a distant clime, 

A sunny sky and leafy woods had found; 
Her home was soon to be a grassy mound; 

When spring returns with all its sounds of mirth, 
Then with bird-music will our groves resound; 

And when he comes, the Lord of second birth. 

Then will his sainted ones come forth from out the earth 

Yes, she lay down and died. Day after day, 
The bright light faded from her hazel eyes. 

And then the sunny spirit passed away. 

We could not see in Heaven the glad surprise, 

With which, where glories after glories rise, 

She looked upon the face of Heaven's great King; 

We have no glass with which to pierce the skies; 
We could not hear those lofty arches ring, 
While holy, happy angels round her soul did sing. 



62 

Four sisters, one by one, had gone from home; 

Each had a happy bridal day and eve; 
We do not know what paths their feet may roam, 

Nor how, this earthly life, they each will leave; 
But no life hopes can her young heart deceive: 

Robed, not in bridal, but in burial white, 
Where they had stood she slept. Why need we grieve? 

Her lovely smile had faded. It was night. 

Had she not gone to dwell with holy ones in light? 

Iq a note book, which she Requested from her father a 
few day= before her de^th, was found ihis quorauon from 
Romans, *'As I live, saith the Lord, every Uuee shall bow to 
me, and every tongue shall confess"— and 'here the tired fin- 
gers laid the pencil down. Her right hand was soon to lose 
lt3 cunning, but her soul would not lose the sacred teachings 
treasured there. 



Written for Miss Gen'e H. Woodard and Dr. Gross Chap- 
man on the occasion of their marricige at Grove Hill. 1879. 

Almost two years have swiftly glided by, 
Since here we met on Lillie's bridal day; 

And I suppose again I ought to try, 
To weave a little, simple, joyous lay. 



63 

To-night our Genie is the radiant bride, 
She gives to-night her hand with heatt of love; 

Lovely and sweet, not marred by earthly pride. 
She looks as peaceful as the sunny dove. 

I have not heard upon this quiet night. 
The carol of our garden mocking-bird; 

But I have caught the glance of eyes of light, 
And bird-like music in some hearts has stirred. 

The sky above this home to-night is blue. 
The stars of glory now are shining there; 

And it our hearts are brave and pure and true, 
The sky of life, far up, will still be fair. 

The household circle is unbroken yet, 
Father and mother, brother, sisters dear; 

And one is added, one, the household pet, 
For Lillie's little Hattie Strother's here. 

That Lillie with her husband here should stand. 
And bring their little one is surely meet; 

Bright is the home where dwells her loving band, 
And where she guards the tread of little feet. 

"A heritage" are children ''from the Lord;" 
Sweetly the echoes of their voices sound, 

And bind our hearts with love as with a cord. 

Where health and plenty spread their comforts round- 



64 

We train our daughters up and they go out; 

Upon thi^m beams a Providence benign; 
In a few years is heard the joyous shout 

Of children in their homes at day's decline. 

'Tis sweet to have a home, an earthly home, 
And when at night around the household tree, 

All meet beneath the stars of heaven's blue dome, 
Content and light and love ought there to be. 

Yet sweeter and more joyous will it be, 

To enter in to the Celestial Home; 
An ecstacy of joy, it seems to me, 

Will then fill hearts that oft in sadness roam. 

Now Genie from her childhood's home must go; 

She enters upon woman's destined lot. 
To be for man a help and not a woe; 

Yet childhood's home can never be forgot. 

For her, and for her chosen guide and friend. 
Now let us breathe a fervent, earnest prayer, 

That when for them at length shall come life's end, 
They may find light beyond this viewless air. 

Explanatory Notes — On the night of the marriage of Miss 
Lillie Wooclard, in December 1877, a mocking-bird in the 
evergreen peach tree in Judge Woodard's garden sang a 
spring-like song, as though rejoicing at the event. The allu- 
sion is to this song in the third stanza. 

The home alluded to in the sixth stanza is the residence 
of David A. Chapman, three miles from Grove Hill, where 



66 

s„.„n,naingsit..>ndeeJahomo,aHne .pecmen of what a 

Christian home miiy !«■. fifth cfin^a 

Haiiie Stroth.r Chapman, refened to in ihe^ ^['^ _'''^^^\': 



was Judge Woodard's first grandchild, in whosa darU, earnest 

eyes a w 

now in Paradise. 



rnrld of wonder layra very quiet and winning child 



Written fo. Miss Georgia Williams of Bashi and George 
Megginson, on th-ir marriage eve December 11, 1879. 
"This world is ftill of beauty 
Just like the worlds above, 
And if we did our duty 
It might be full of love." 

These words, by some one spoken, 

Contain a living truth; 
But bright ties oft are broken, 

That bind our hearts in youth. 

We do not do our duty. 

In filling earth with love; 
We drink not in the beauty. 

That glows around, above. 

But, Georgia, I am trusting 

That you may gain success. 
Your heart and life adjusting 

To Scripture righteousness. 



66 

The dew-drop of the morning- 
Soon dries beneath the sun; 

To us it giveth warning 

That lifers race soon is run. 



While eartlily life is fleeting, 
Your own but scarce begun. 

You have a hope of meeting 
Where comes no setting sun. 

The dew-drop in the lily 

Spoils not its fragrance sweet; 

But when the night gi'ows chilly 
Some flowery petals meet. 

If then the tears of sorrow 

Should dim your lustrous e3^e, 

Be mindful that the morrow 
Finds love still nestling nigh. 

This truth will bear repeating, 
That in the soul lies woi-th; 

For girlhood's charms are fleeting^ 
They fade like things of earth. 

And may you, now possessing 
This youthful heart and hand^ 

Both find and prove a blessing; 
By her in trials stand. 



67 

Your single life is ending; 

You're husband now and wife; 
And may your two souls blending 

Share a loving, happy life. 

Be faithful to each other; 

In joy and sorrow pray; 
You have a Friend, a Brother, 

In the realms of perfect day. 

Ill him through life believing. 
You will find that life is sweet; 

And from him grace receiving, 
In Heaven at last you'll meet. 



OUR BROAD LAND, 



Written in the morning of July 21, 1881, and originally 
published in The Youth's Companion. Inserted here by 
permission. 

Tune — "America." 

Land of the prairies wide, 
Washed by two oceans' tide, 

Land of our birth; 
Land where the mountains proud 
Are often capped with cloud; 
Of thee we sing aloud, 

Fair clime of earth. 



68 



Land of the forest deep. 
Where countless echoes sleep 

Which man will wake; 
Where cedar, oak, and pine, 
And many a wood of tliine, 
Fragrance and strength combine^ 

For us to take: — 

Land of the lakes and streams^ 
AVhere not the old triremes, 

But steamers ply; 
Land of broad vale and mead, 
Where Hocks and lierds now feed^ 
Supplying many a need, 

Glad'ning the eye: — 

Land of rich grass and grain, 
Of cotton and of cane. 

Of fruits and vines; 
Of gold and silver bright, 
Of wells of oil for light, 
Of coal to cheer the night. 

Of iron mines. 



(>9 



1 ) si;1<)ri()iis land of on j"s, 
Nol lu'lil by lordly, towci-s, 

I^niul of th<^ IVce; 
Land oftli'' i'vvv and l)i'a.V('.. 
Whose slioiH's fVcH'. waters lave, 
< Jod's }4,race for thee we erave, 

We j)ray lor llice. 



A THANKSGiVIN'G HY^IN. CM. July 25, I8b1. 



VVe sini;- the oloi'ies oi' oui* land, 

A son<;- of j)rais<' to-day; 
AW', who are now a nHghiy Iwmd: 

'Vo (Jod we sijjo- and pray. 

Land where Ihe iMJi^rini ar.<l the I^'rieiid, 
Land where the Dutrh aiul Swede, 

'Mid storms that made tiie nations bend, 
l^^)nnd homes in (heii* soi'e need; — 

Lan<l where t!»e danntless Ilnoin'iiot, 

And lMi<j,lish (^aA^alier, 
And exih'd bands from many a spot^ 

Soni»ht refuge, rest, oi* eheer; — 



70 



Land of broad forest and of plain, 
Of mountain, hill, and dale. 

Of golden sunshine, summer rain, 
Wide field, and sheltered vale. 

To thee. Oh God of all the earth. 
To whom all praise is due. 

Who hast preserved us from our birth, 
We give our love anew. 

We thank thee for this pleasant land. 
And for the fruits of earth; 

May we to-day, a festive band, 
Make melody and mirth.* 

*See Neh. 8:12. 



In Memory of EDITH E. BALL, Daughter of James H. and Mrs. Harrle 
B. Ball, who was Born June 10, and Died August 14, 1881- 



The following is a portion uf a postal card received at 
Holyoke, Friday, August 19, 1881, written at Ciown Point: 

"August 16th 

Dear Father:— The last few days have been sad ones for 
us. Our little Edith was very sick all day Sunday, and at 
eleven o'clock in the evening passed away. Mr. Clearwaters 



71 

conducted the funeral exercises at our house at four yester- 
day. * * * We are lonely to-day without little Edith. 

Your daughter, 

Georgie." 

She came a stranger, like a little bird 
From Paradise, seeking an earthly home. 
She found a feeble mother, one who gave 
Her love, and care at first, but soon became 
Too weak for ministries of tenderness. 
She found a father, thoughtful, kind, and true, 
Who himself became with care o'er burdened, 
And could not therefore do for her, his bud. 
One bud of promise sweet, his daughter dear, 
The lily of his line, the first to stir 
A fount of love for which earth has no rest, 
All that a father's love for the first born 
Would gladly do. 

She found a faithful nurse. 
And then she found an aunt and cousin true. 
And with these two she seenjed to nestle down 
And find awhile her home. Her eyes were bright, 
Her smile was winning. And her little form 
Began to grow with childlike grace, and hope 
Grew also in her cousin's heart that she 
One day would have a v/insome, cheery friend, 
A bright girl cousin, frolicsome and sweet, 
Whob'e little feet would run the paths of life, 
Whose little hands herself might train for use 



72 

And for tlie ornamental work of home, 

Of home and loved ones dear; and in whose heart, 

Cast in a gentle mold, (for from the eyes 

Of the yonng stranger beamed, and in her smiles, 

And on her lips when tremulous with grief, 

There dwelt, the tokens of a tender soul,) 

In which young soul she might herself implant 

The germs of knowledge, the rich seeds of life, 

That life which lives and grows forevermore 

Within the soul. 

But while these pleasant hopes 
Were budding as the tiny form began 
With promise fair to grow and thrive, a cloud 
Canie o'er the sunshine. Burning heat was in 
The August sun of the blue sky without. 
Within the little child was smitten. Then, 
Perhaps there came a whisper from afar, 
"Let us go back." And the young child took wings, 
Took wings again, and with the angel guard 
Went back to that bright home, that home of love, 
Home of unfading beauty, perfect bliss, 
AVhere care and pam and sorrow never come, 
Where night is not, where grief and wrong and woe, 
Where toil and sin, and aching heart and brain, 
And cloud o'er thought, or cloud o'er loving soul, 
Within the brightness of the Father's love, 
Can never dwell nor for one moment be. 
Farewell then, Edith Ball, Edith of Lake, 



75 

Edith Elisabeth, the name ihey gave, 

Thy father and thy mother, when young hope 

Was budding here on earth. Thou wilt not be 

In this drear world forgotten, although few 

Thine earthly weeks of summer life. One long 

Bright day is now before thee. Soon will meet, 

Will meet thee radiant, glorious there, father, 

Mother, cousin, aunt; yes a loving throng 

From East, and West, and South. Then thou wilt be 

One among a kindred band who within 

That happy land, with the larger, countless 

Hosts of the ransomed, sinless, clothed in white 

Ever shall be with the Lord, with the Lamb; 

With that slain, that risen One, child of earth 

For myriads once, King now forevermore. 

So fare thee well. But not for aye. No not 

For long. Rest in our earth, oh tiny form. 

Till the day dawns and the great trumpet sounds. 



A Hymn Sung at the Meeting of the Old Settlers' Association in Septem- 
ber, 1881. 6s and 4s. 



Tune — ' ^Olivet. ' 

A nation mourns to-day; 
To thee, oh God, we pray; 
We bow the knee: 
10 



74 



Thy will hath made us great; 
Thou rulest church and state; 
Thou art, and not blind fate. 
O'er land and sea. 

Thou didst our fathers bless; 
Didst hear when, in distress. 

They cried to thee: 
Grieved, smitten, chastened now, 
Again to thee we bow, 
We breathe the suppliant's vow; 

Hear thou our plea. 

Our nation's head lies low, 
And millions feel the blow 

That struck him down: 
Within the White House grief, 
Mourning around a chief, 
Who claimed no feudal fief, 

Who wore no crown. 

Chosen through law to be. 
The ruler of the free, 

To guide the state: 
A madman's hand we see. 
Raised against man and thee, 
Of murder guilty he: 

Low lies the great. 



75 



Comfort the widow thou; 
Be more than father now, 

To children sad: 
Their earthly wants supplied, 
In thee may they abide, 
Until the even-tide, 

And then be glad. 



And may our land have rest, 
And be with concord blest, 

In love agree: 
With our false pride subdued, 
And with thy grace imbued; 
That we may be renewed. 

We look to thee. 



Oh God, our Father, hear; 
To the bereaved be near. 

Comfort each heart: 
Regard the orphans' tears; 
Dispel the nation's fears; 
Grant us in coming years, 

A noble part. 



76 

A noble part in life, 

Free from low faction's strife, 

Free from all stains: 
From this dark hour of woe, 
Caring for high and low, 
May we still onward go, 

While time remains. 



A hymn on the death of President Garfield, sung at the 
public services held in tho Court House at Crown Point. 

7s & 6s. 
The Lord in heaven reigneth, 

Let all the earth rejoice; 
The Lord is King forever. 

Praise Him with heart and voice; 
But sad is now the burden 

Of this one song we raise; 
Low is the mighty fallen! 

Sighs mingle with our praise. 

Our cities draped in mourning; 

What mean these signs of woe? 
Why pales the cheek of manhood? 

What mean the tears that flow? 
Low is the mighty fallen, 

Our nation's chosen chief, 
Ruler of fifty millions! 

What words can tell our grief? 



77 

Oh weep, Columbia's daughters, 

Lament the honored dead; 
A sister sad, true-hearted, 

Laments her fallen head; 
The head of one bright household, 

A husband, father, friend, 
In one of earth's high places, 

Has found of earth the end. 

How came the mighty fallen? 

B}^ an assassin's hand; 
And righteous indignation 

Has swept o'er this broad land; 
God is the one Great Ruler 

Whose power will never end; 
To Him we pay our homage. 

Before His throne we bend. 

Ruler succeedeth ruler 

In throne or chair of state; 
God reigns, he reigns forever, 

And He alone is great; 
Since men by him are chosen 

For deeds of earthly fame, 
With Washington and Lincoln 

We now join Garfield's name. 

Notes. — lu the first stanza some words are taken from the 
97 Psalm. The expression *'the mighty fallen" is from David's 
lament over Jonathan and Saul. The expression in the third 



78 

stanza, "her fallen head," alludes to the Scripture teaching 
"the head of the vvonaan is the man:" The last line of the 
third stanza alludes to 'the words of John Quincy Adamj-., 
when dying: "This is' the last of earth, I am content." "He 
alone 's great," in the fifth stanza alludes to the noted words 
of Massillon when as he stood before the altar and beside the 
remains of Louis XIV, pointing to the form of the dead mon- 
arch he slowly uttered "God only is Great," and that magnifi- 
cent assembly, moved as by one impulse, rose and reverently 
bowed. 



79 
MEMORIAL HYMN. 



Sung at the Semi-centennial celebration of Lake county 
after "commemorative remarks'' in memory of Mr. George 
Wiliey, who was Chairman of the Committee of Arrangements 
fo: the celebration, who died April 5th at the age of seventy 
years. 

We must pass ere long away 

To the realms of endless day; ' 

While v^e briefly sojourn here, 

Earthly woes we need not fear, 

Ours a hope that gildeth bright 

Every cloud of earthly night. 

Let us on the Father call, 
Who in mercy heareth all; 
He who pities human woes, 
' No respect to persons shows; - 
As we in his sight appear 
So he judges; Him we'll fear. 

We were not redeemed with gold 
From our mode of living old, 
But with blood; we share the love 
Of the Lamb enthroned above; 
One another then must we 
Love with pure heart fervently. 



80 

While our days of sojourn here 
We must pass in filial fear, 
We are taught to count it joy 
When temptations us annoy; 
Having Christ our living Friend 
Soon our conflicts all will end. 

[For some of the teachings contained in the above hymn 
the author would refer, in regard to the second and third 
stanzas, to 1 Peter 1:17-22; and for the fourth stanza, in con- 
nection with this passage, to James 1 :2, 

Crown Point, Saturday morning, April 5, 1884.] 



SEMI-CENTENNIAL POEM. 1884. 



Full fifty years ago, 
Amid the winter's snow, 
These groves, this prairie land, 
Our northern lake shore strand, 
Were bare, and bleak, and wild; 
But white man, wife and child. 
One cabin dwelling place had found, 
Had come to hold and till the ground. 



81 

These fifty years of time, 

Passing o'er every clime, 

Have wondrous changes made 

Wherever man has strayed. 

Within our borders small, 

Changes have passed o'er all, 

Those who shared happy childhood then, 

Are gray-haired women now and men. 



Of children, women, men. 
In years now five times ten, 
(Those years of war and peace,) 
Has been a large increase: 
Some sixteen thousand here 
Have homes this fiftieth year, 
The year which now we celebrate 
As half a century in our date. 



The Red men are no more 
Upon our northern shore, 
With birchen bark canoes 
And moccasins for shoes; 
They hunt no more the deer. 
They wield no more the spear, 
They trap no more the rat and mink 
Along our river's grassy brink. 
11 



82 



Their tomahawks are found 
Imbedded in our ground; 
Their spear and arrow heads 
Are in their lowly beds; 
The race from us has gone, 
To live but in our song, 
And on our own historic page, 
In records of our earliest age. 



The tread of busy feet 
Is now on many a street; 
Voices of girls and boys, 
The homes of household joys. 
Are on our prairie lea. 
And by the streamlets free. 
Where late was nature's solitude 
Or where the Indian wigwam stood. 



The busy marts of trade. 

When sales for gain are made, 

The ware-house and the store, 

Filled yearly o'er and o'er. 

With purchased grain and hay, 

With goods for ready pay. 

These give us town and village now. 

Since white men came and brought the plow. 



83 



Now rise the village spires, 

Mid all our household fires; 

For men of every creed 

Acknowledge human need, 

And worship Him above, 

The one true God of love, 

Where late the Eed men bowed and prayed, 

On prairie wild, in forest shade. 



Next to the church the school. 
Where, under gentle rule. 
Our children knowledge gain. 
Gives proof of white man's brain ; 
School houses trim aifc neat. 
Where fair-haired children meet, 
In all our rural districts stand. 
Our heritage from Pilgrim land. 



The anvil and the loom. 

Joined like a bride and groom. 

Are symbols of a toil, 

Bringing a richer spoil. 

Than Indian hunter's bow 

Has ever yet laid low; 

This toil in many a work shop now 

Bedews the workman's noble brow. 



84 



From early dawn till night, 

And oft by bright lamp light, 

Consuming midnight oil, 

Goes on this ceaseless toil. 

Where each mechanic art. 

Of labor claims its part: 

Our shops, our mills, our kilns, our homes. 

Would not be found where Indian roams. 



Our ceaseless toil and trade. 
Where honest gains are made, 
Growing through fifty years. 
Years with their hopes and fears, 
Have made a wondrous change 
Where wild deer found free range; 
And we expect a city yet 
Upon the winding Calumet. 



The ponderous, loaded car, 

Bringing the freight from far, 

Drawn by steam's wondrous power, 

Is passing every hour; 

And thousands on each day. 

Pass by us on their way. 

To find some place for toil or rest, 

Northward or southward, east or west. 



85 

And we have still much more, 

More than the well filled store, 

Or kiln, or shop, or mill, 

To show the power of will 

In making nature pay 

Rich tribute every day; 

Not iron rail or wire alone, 

We have this year the telephone. 



But our true wealth is made, 

Not by the means of trade, 

Although mechanic art 

Has borne a useful part. 

We plow, we sow, we reap, 

And while we wake and sleep. 

Herds crop the meadows fresh and gay, 

Grass grows to fill our barns with hay. 



Our thousand well tilled farms. 

With all their rural charms. 

With garden, orchard, field, 

(With their abundant yield,) 

Which dot the prairies o'er, 

Where bison roamed of yore. 

These make of Lake the growing wealth, 

And give us homes of love and health. 



86 



And then our flocks and herds. 

Grazing when sing the birds. 

Our horses, poultry, hogs, 

(Even our cats and dogs, 

Having their parts to fill, 

Obeying human will), 

These cattle on a thousand plains 

Bring to their owners large rich gains. 



Our farms, our country homes, 

If not adorned with domes. 

Mansion and cottage fair, 

Where fragrance fills the air 

In spring and summer time. 

Where running roses climb. 

These with their flowers and fruits and shades, 

Are richer than the town arcades. 



Here is the hum of bees. 

When bloom the apple trees; 

Here, through the shining hours. 

Bees gather sweets from flowers; 

Here should be great content, 

(No butchers' bills, no rent,) 

Where lambkins skip and children play, 

Through all the livelong summer day. 



87 



Though beautiful and bright, 

Seen in morn's rosy light, 

These quiet homes appear, 

The age of toil is here; 

A.nd prattling children learn 

Money to save and earn; 

Fathers and mothers plan still more 

How to increase their golden store- 



Too sordid is our age; 

Too many now engage, 

With heart, and soul, and mind, 

The road to wealth to find. 

We need to love our land; 

We need the open hand; 

''Man does not live by bread alone,' 

Although he cannot eat a stone. 



We need our gala days; 

We need the voice of praise; 

We should love nature more 

Than gold or silver ore; 

The lakes, the running streams, 

As fair as childhood's dreams. 

The groves, the meads when bright with flowers, 

May well beguile our careworn hours. 



88 



Blue is our sky in June, 
Bright shines our harvest moon, 
Fair are our early flowers, 
Pleasant our April showers, 
Hot is the summer's sun. 
Bright stars their courses run. 
We claim of naught to have the best, 
But good enough for every guest. 



Peace to the homes of Lake. 

Each must its records make 

In the on-coming years; 

There will be smiles and tears; 

But let us love renew, 

As briefly we review 

These fifty years of light and shade 

Since here his home a white man made. 



Peace to the homes of Lake. 

In love may they awake, 

At peace with God and man, 

Heeding great Nature ^s plan, 

As mornings come and go, 

And winters white with snow. 

In summer's heat and winter's cold, 

May God protect us as of old. 



89 



A SILVER WEDDING ODE. 1885. 



Note.— The Silver Weddiog Anniversary of Mr. and Mrs . 
Allmau was the great social event of Crown Point for the 
year 1885. More than one hundred guests were present. 
Some forty others invited were obliged to send their regrets. 
One of the finest family residences in Crown Point or in Lake 
county had not very long before been built, furnished, and 
was now the family home. The presents were beautiful ana 
valuable. A congratulatory address was made by Judge Field 
and a response was given by vlr. James H. Luther, Mrs. 
All.nan's brother. The supper was in keeping with the 
surroundings, and the whole entertainment of the evening was 
peculiarly delightful. 

To Mr. Amos and Mrs. Mary Allmau. Married at Crown 
Point, March 22d, 1860: 

Kind friends, dear friends, I wish you joy to-niglit, 
In this rich home brilliant with love and light; 
And while so many, silver oiferings bring, 
Permit me as a troubadour to sing. 

My song should be of silvery sound and thought, 
With living truth like threads of silk inwrought; 
Perchance of love, of wedded love I ween. 
The love that makes a matron home's true queen. 
12 



90 

The wonders of our life are manifold; 
They cannot in one hour or day be told; 
They upward soar bej^ond the highest reach 
Of human thought, much more of human speech. 

For them to-night my harp has not been strung; 
I leave them therefore in their height unsung: 
You celebrate to-night a bridal eve, 
And for your brows some chaplet I would weave. 

Marriage we know goes back to Eden's bower; 
It tells us of creative love and power; 
Fairest of women Eve became a wife, 
On the first day of her God-given life. 

Your days had passed, the days of childhood fair, 
When boys chase butterflies in summer air; 
When dolls and patch-work please our little girls, 
Who skip and play and toss their auburn curls. 

And youth had ended with each golden dream 
When things that are mingle with things that seem; 
And womanhood had come with itg rich dower, 
And manhood with its noble aims and power. 

Then, by love guided, each of each made choice; 
Well may you in this wedded love rejoice; 
Love from a marriage altar shines afar; 
Its light is constant like the polar star. 



91 

How wondrous is this love that binds two hearts! 
Some speak of Cupid and his shining darts; 
You each the other chose and took the vow, 
That binds you as a wife and husband now. 

Then years came on, with cares and toils and joys; 
Into 3^on cottage home came girls and boys; 
And they have lived, their life has opened bright; 
Great cause for thankfulness have you to-night. 

As five and twenty years are ending now, 
Years that have left some impress on each brow, 
We rest awhile to think and to enjoy; 
To taste life's bliss without that life's alloy. 

And here, within even this charmed circle gay, 
Your thoughts go back to that first bridal day; 
Then life was new and fresh and all untried; 
'Twas joy to be, and joy to have, a bride. 

And as to-night you glance o'er these swift years, 
How bright each mercy in the past appears; 
Of earthly good, what need you ask for more? 
Surely with blessings now your cup runs o'er. 

You have Irene and Jessie, daughters fair, 
With girlhood's light still on their sunny hair; 
You have two stately sons, Walter and Claude, 
Whose manly ways all noble hearts applaud. 



92 

You have a fifth, another daughter yet. 
Bright little Nellie, now the household pet; 
And in each form there dwells a radiant mind, 
Bright, apt to learn, intelligent, refined. 

Such are five treasures which you hold most dear; 
You have a home of comfort, ease, and cheer; 
Economy and skill, still gaining more, 
Have year by year increased your earthly store. 

And here you are this eve in middle age. 
To turn in life's strange book another page; 
Say I not well, what could you ask for more? 
Surely with blessings does your cup run o'er. 

This evening's joy will pass; time flies along; 
And that reminds me I must end my song: 
And threads of silver on your heads and mine, 
Kemind us we must look for life's decline. 

I have no second sight, no prophet's ken, 
Although I hold this eve a poet's pen; 
But I might look along the coming years. 
And guessing at the joys omit the tears. 

But rather let us rest, review the past. 
Enjoy life's blessings while these blessings last; 
Friends throng around you here; friendship is sweet 
'Tis pleasant in this palace home to meet. 



93 

I hope that you may reach your golden day; 
As yet you've journeyed toward it half the way; 
In wisdom and in mercy on our eyes, 
The curtain o'er the future will not rise. 

One said, Thou shalt thy children's children see, 
While peace, sweet peace around thy home shall be; 
Such was a blessing God pronounced of old; 
May you share this, and reach the day of gold. 

But friends, dear friends, old age will come apace; 
And by and by must end the earthly race; 
Life is a voyage; when this life is o'er. 
Be sure you land upon the Golden Shore. 



94 
AN ALUMNI POEM. 



WriitPD by appointment and read before the Alumni 
Association of Franklin College in June, 1885. 

Brotherhoods. 

As childhood listens to the songs of birds, 
So wisdom listens to well chosen words. 

This earth with all its stornis and rugged wilds, 
Parched desert solitudes and fields of ice, 
Its dreary wastes of ocean and its nights, 
Is yet adorned with beauty. Over all 
The habitable parts, and all the known 
Foot- trodden regions of our native earth 
Traces are found of that bright world of light, 
That at creation's dawn flooded this earth 
At God's express command and mantled it 
With loveliness. I do not know why God 
Made so much beauty here on earth, beauty 
In color, motion, symmetry, and life, 
The very poetry and grace of youth, 
Unless he meant that we should beauty love. 
Doubtless in other worlds, where only truth 
And goodness dwell, are higher forms of grace, 
That kind of grace that we call loveliness, 
Adorning perfect life. But also here 



95 

Is higher beauty than the outward kind, 

Of color, form, and motion. Even here 

Where bloom the rose and lily, where the shells 

From ocean's depths are wondrous, and the light 

Of sunshine flashes on high mountain tops, 

And rainbows span the valleys, even here 

We all acknowledge beauty of the soul. 

We recognize what we call lovely sights. 

And therefore beautiful, in social life, 

In mental and in moral acts performed, 

In those relationships that bind us here. 

To one another, to our race, and God. 

This brings me to my subject, brotherhoods. 

And first of all we must allow and feel 

That a true brotherhood is beautiful. 

Look at its simplest form, a family, 

A family of boys and gentle girls. 

For girls we know come into brotherhoods. 

Those boys are surely to be pitied who, 

In all their lives have known no sister's love. 

To be an only child, alone in life. 

Is not a lot that any one need crave. 

To stand alone, perhaps on dizzy height. 

Is sometimes terrible. Some have e'en thought. 

If there be one archangel, one who dwells 

Above all other homes of holy ones. 

Without a peer in this wide universe. 

He sometimes must feel lone. I do not think 



96 



God has made creatures to be all alone; 
At least I know that for earth's loneliness 
A solace is in God. But let us look 
At girls and boys in one small home of earth. 
When these are bound by ties of kindred love, 
And are what children of one home should be, 
What sight on earth can be more beautiful! 
See how the eldest watches gently o'er 
The younger ones and good examples sets. 
See how the younger to the elder ones 
Look up in perfect confidence for care. 
Encouragement, protection, help, and love. 
See how all strive to work some common good. 
And when the little sister, full of grace, 
A bud unfolding fast, but timid, shy, 
To strangers, like a fawn in forest wild. 
Trustful at home, like that same spotted fawn 
When it has felt the hand of gentle child. 
Gives to her elder brother the sweet kiss 
Of childhood's trusting love, he has the best 
That there is left on earth of innocence 
And purity and peace. Childhood is near 
To Heaven, near to the blessed care and love 
Of angels; and a trusting child's sweet lips 
Have yet some tremulous vibrations left 
Of words and songs, of echoes and caresS; 
That might have been in Eden's sinless bowers. 
We all do know that homes of earthly love, 



97 

Brothers and sisters in sweet concord there, 
Are the abodes of beauty. Are such rare? 
Look at a larger brotherhood and say 
If the ideal at least thrills not the heart, 
The brotherhood of man. Here is one race. 
All in one world, made of one blood, and all 
Children of one same God. Suppose they all 
Each for the other cared, and each one loved 
All others, as some earth-born children do 
In one small household? What if some are black, 
Or white, or brown, have swarthy, tawny skin, 
Are yellow, red or copper colored, what 
To us the diiference, if our hearts but glow 
With kindred love? Some eyes are blue, some black, 
Some gray, some hazel, and some seem to have 
Such changeful hites as thought and feeling flash 
To mine, I do not know their actual shade. 
Some lovely forms are blondes, some are brunettes, 
Some have dark olive hues, and some there are. 
So poets say, so novelists aflirm, 
Whojroses blend with lilies in their rich, 
God-given beauty. But it should be now, 
It will be by and by, the heart, the soul. 
We love. If now we could exemplify 
Upon our earth this brotherhood of man, 
Would not the angels from the world of light 
Look down and say. How beautiful! Behold 
The family of man! Look once again. 
13 



98 

'Tis written in the holy Book love ye 

"The In'otherhood." That is a smaller, yes, 

A choicer band, brothers and sisters called 

From every tribe and nation to come out 

And form one j^lorious band, bound heart to heart, 

Made not of l)lood alike alone, but born. 

Yea, of one Spirit borji. They ought to show 

On earth, not waiting for the heavenly world. 

All tnat is beautiful in brotherhoods, 

For they are taught even to lay their lives 

Each for the other down. I let them pass. 

Their record is not Avhat it ought to be. 

Then there are many smaller brotherhoods. 

Among which ours is one. The thousand more 

I need not even name. How are we one? 

We have a common mother. College hall, 

Our dear old college, school of classic lore, 

Planned by our fathers for the prophets' sons, 

We have personified, and call her now 

Our ALMA MATER. Within college walls 

We drink from the Castalian fount, we drink 

From the Piei'ian spring. We drink from founts 

Of knowledge all unknown to Grecian minds. 

Their poems grand, their wondrous myths we read, 

Immortal writings of their ancient men 

We study; then we pass, beyond their ken, 

Into the woi'ld of modern thought, the world. 

Of science, which their wise philosophers 



99 

Had not explored. All this rich food for mind, 

This mental pabulum, our mother gives. 

Well may we call her alma. Using food 

So much alike, by the same teachers trained, 

Passing, as hand in hand, by the same ways 

Up the steep hill of science, thus we learn 

In part to think alike; we have some stock 

Of learning all in common; what one knows 

The others know of this our common lore; 

And as one thinks, in part, the others think, 

In the great beaten lines of human thought. 

And so this mental likeness makes us kin. 

We do not all the same expressions use, 

Our shades of thought are various, and our tastes 

May vary widely, — in one home I know 

The children are not all alike, I think 

That angels differ each from each, and yet 

Are angels all — and we are brothers all. 

There was a time when we were very few; 

And when our mother might have worn the weeds 

Of widowhood; her halls were still and lone; 

Forsaken she seemed to be of all her sons. 

I cannot claim that then our brotherhood 

Was beautiful. But a new era dawned. 

Fair gentle forms, sweet flute-like voices came, 

Voices our elder brothers never heard 

Kepeating songs of Homer, never heard 

In college walls discoursing ancient lore. 



100 

Our mother had borne daughters! With surprise, 
Almost witli awe, and with perhaps some dread, 
We saw our little sisters come, take seats. 
And eat at the same table with ourselves. 
And we were boys, were men, thvAv brothers tall. 
But they have grown to goodly size, and now 
We have choice sisters in our brotherhood. 
To-niglit this brotherhood is beautiful. 
I do not mean the outward which adorns 
Oiir sisters, sparkling in their sunny eyes, 
(ilowing on each fair cheek and radiant brow, 
And nestling on their glossy silken hair; 
I do not mean the outward, manly grace, 
Sitting at ease ui)on our brothers' forms: 
But more etherial beauty, that which shines 
When gifted minds and noble hearts unite 
In some high enterprise. And we may think 
To-night of that grand song of ancient times, 
Behold how good, and see how pleasant too, 
For brothers here, in unity to dwell 
Together. Like the precious ointment poured 
On Aaron's head, and like Mount Hermon's dew. 
Like dew on Zion's mountains where the Lord 
Commands the blessing, life forevermore. 
To-night the peers in thought, peers, it may be, 
In talent, genius, power, with some who won 
In other days renown, with some who now- 
Stand in high places of this land, are met 



101 

For friendly greeting; met to look once more 

Into each otliers' eyes, and clasp the hand, 

Revive old memories and new hopes inspire, 

And feel the gentle flow from mind to mind 

Of the same earnest thoughts and high resolves 

Which prove our kinship. We are here to-night 

To show in all our fields of mental toil 

Our fellowship. Mind honors mind. True thought 

Is quick to catch the flow of other thought, 

And sisters listen to their brothers' words. 

That girlhood's voice, that woman's words can win 

The ear and heart of manhood, all the past 

In colors bright and colors dark attests. 

But now, once more, here are we met to-night 

To oherish kindly thoughts and speak good words 

Of our kind mother. Hail! to the college dear! 

Hail to the piles of brick as standing now! 

Hail to that massive pile that i^ to be! 

Hail to those stately halls which younger feet 

Than ours will tread! And hail to that long line 

Of sons and daughters to come after us 

In future years! Hail to the coming time 

When of our number master spirits rise 

To stir anew the land, to quicken thought. 

To take the lead in noblest forms of work; 

To sound the trumpet and the sw^ord to wield 

In those fierce conflicts that must shortly come. 

When wrongs, old and gray-headed, yet with power 



102 

Terrific girded for the fierce ouslaughts, 
Shall clash against young giant right, as waves 
Of ocean on the rock-ribbed headlands dash. 
Yes, hail that coming time, now near at hand, 
When Franklin's fairest daughters shall be known 
In many a land for zeal in doing good, 
Winning this world to virtue and to God; 
Adorned, not with the gold and jewels bright, 
But with the ornaments of spirits meek. 
Ere long the Lord of harvest shall appear. 
Then shall a grander than Olympic prize 
Bring honor to our brotherhood. Farewell. 



Night is coming on, my brothers^ 
Life's short race is almost run; 

Work by us, all work for others, 
Should be done by set of sun. 

In the day are twelve hours only; 

Let us not our duties shirk; 
For when come the night shades o'er us^ 

Jesus says, No man can work. 



103 
TO MISS CYNTHIA WOOD. 



Married, Anp:ust 18, 1885, at three P. M., by the Eev, T. H. 
Ball, at the residence of the Hon. Martin Wood, father of the 
bride, Mr. Henry W. Sohl, alderman of ih«^ city of Hammond, 
and Miss Cynthia Wood, late Principal of the high school 
department of Hatn-nond Public School. 

My sister, once 1113^ P^^pil? now my friend, 
Whose girlhood, maiden days to-day will end, 
Well chosen words can never come amiss. 
If suited to a day and hour like this. 

But I may not assume to use choice words, 
That flow as freely as the songs of birds, 
Whenever wishing counsel kind to give 
Or setting forth some truth in hearts to live. 

'^Apples of gold" grow not on every tree; 
Hearts do not spring at will from burdens free; 
"Pictures of silver" grace not every wall, 
In lowly cottage or in stately hall. 

Not always as we would but as we can. 
Such is the limit still assigned to man; 
So kindly, please, this simple lay receive, 
Not as a nuptial song for marriage eve. 



104 

For I do not propose the bride to praise; 
Nor to the bridegroom's worth an arch to raise, 
Inscribing on that arch his merits true, 
And setting forth liis manly traits to view. 

That you may prosper, this I hope and pray; 
And may God grant you many a happy day. 
Your names instruct; fair Cj^nthia light to shed, 
And Henry ^^of the house the chief or head." 

The formal '4ioney-moon" is very brief. 
And sometimes days and months succeed of grief: 
But there are those, may you be such a wife. 
Whose moon of honey lasts through wedded life. 

Old is the saying, in a Latin guise, 

A word sufficient is unto the wise; 

And now that word to you in hope I give; 

The word is trust. O heed it while you live. 

Be this your talismanic word, your charm. 
Your husband trust; lean on his manly arm; 
Trust him most fully in his manhood's prime; 
Trust him through all your years of coming time. 

Trust him with secrets; trust him with your love; 
Trust him the next to One who dwells above: 
Then trust implicitly your Saviour, God; 
Trust him in joy and when He wields the rod. 



105 

Kemcmber, all things work for good to those, 
Who love their God; all things, joys, cares, or woes: 
Trust each the other until life shall close, 
And trust in God to give you sweet repose. 



THE HOMES OF LAKE. 



Written for the Old Settlers' Association of Lake County, 
Indiana, and read at their tenth anniversary held in Crown 
Point, Sej«ember 9, 1885. 

"The Stately Homes of England, 

How beautiful they stand! 
An:iidst their tall ancestral trees, 

O'er all the pleasant land!" 

—Mrs. He mans. 

"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be 
also." — Sermon on the Mount. 

Where is thy home? I asked a little child. 
The boy glanced at a cottage near and smiled. 
Where is thy home? I asked an aged man. 

He sighed, then smiled, and upward cast his eye: 
"Alas! there flows a stream no bridge can span, 

Between me and my glorious home on high." 
14 



106 

A dear sweet word is home; ^ur home, my home; 
The name we give to that one spot where dwell 
Our heart's best earthly treasures. ''Home, sweet home." 
Dear in all lands, wherever homes are found. 
Must be the dwelling place of kindred hearts. 
A true, sweet home need not a palace be. 
Home's joys in lordly dwellings may be found; 
But oftener found in modest mansions plain; 
Found sometimes, those rich joys, in humble cot. 

In lonely cabin of the pioneer. 
In some small clearing of the forest deep. 
Or in some grove beside the prairie wild, 
A cabin with its chimnej^ built of slicks. 
These plastered o'er with clay, the walls of logs, 
The floor rude puncheons hewed by woodman's a^e, 
The windows without sash or panes of glass. 
And furniture but of the simplest kind, — 
Oft has been found in such a cabin home 
More of domestic bliss and true content, 
Than in the old stone walls of lordly hall. 
Heart love, true love, and not vain pomp or show, 
Makes homes real homes. The}^ may be high or low; 
They may, the inmates there, be rich or poor; 
But they must have true hearts of kindred love. 
And so it is that these sweet homes of earth. 
Where we may rest, and shut earth's discords out; 
Its wrangles and its strifes, its vexing cares, 
Where we may lay aside our sternest toil, 



107 

Where we may feel secure in sharing love, — 
These have to us become sweet types of rest, 
Of peace and freedom and of love secure, 
Which we expect in Heaven. We call that Home. 

What are these homes of ours, these homes of Lake? 
The building vary ranch in form and size; 
Most are of wood, but some of stone and brick. 
Designed by skillful architect, or planned 
To suit only the owner's wants and taste, 
Not many, it may be, would models prove. 
For those who take as law John Ruskin's words. 
Yet they give shelter from the winter storms; 
They shut out cold and heat and rain and snow; 
But well w^e know they are not cyclone proof 
From that dread visitant as yet God spares. 
Long may he shield us from the tempest's power, 
And spare the dwellings that our hands have reared. 
They let in light and air, the light of da}'. 
The pure fresh air of heaven that all must breathe. 
They give us thus the shelter that all need. 
In cost these buildings vary as in form. 
For some are dwelling places of the rich, 
And beautiful as England's "stately homes," 
And show how well their owner's goods increase; 
And some are rented rooms built for the poor. 
It is enough if they are truly homes. 

Man cannot make alone a true, sweet home. 
It needs and it must have a woman's love. 



108 

If not the presence, it must liave within 

The hallowed memory of some woman's form. 

An aged mother may make home within 

The humble walls where comes, at close of day, 

An only son; and as they two find rest 

And shelter from the cold, harsh world without, 

They may have rich home joys. They have a past. 

And they look forward to some future bright. 

A little daughter or some sister lone 

May be the woman form that makes a home, 

For father or for brothers kind and good. 

But a full home will hold the loving wife; 

A faithful mother, with her children fair. 

And such are many of our homes to-day; 

The father, mother, children, all are there. 

Homes seem the brightest where are children young. 

Life is so fresh in childhood's early days, 

When all the birds sing sweetly, when the flowers 

Are fragrant, and their blooms have such rich hues 

For the young, sparkling eyes that see them first. ' 

And in that life, so free from care, come toys, 

And childhood's merry sports at morn and eve. 

Visit our homes, our town and village homes; 

Look on our country homes in summer time. 

And watch the plays of childhood. At a home 

On a large farm, I saw one day a group, 

Not long ago, of children four, two boys, 

Two little girls; sweet, gentle children all; 



109 

And while the older ones were in the field, 

Stacking the fragrant hsij, these children played, 

Beneath a maple, in the shade, close by 

Their door-way, in the mother's sight within. 

The}^ played stack hay, with a long line for rope, 

And for a fork a very long strong spoon, 

One little girl, so lovely in her sweet 

Child beauty, on her seat upon a box. 

Stacking each bunch of hay, one boy "to dump," 

The youngest boy, called "Toadie," playing horse. 

The least one sitting on the ground at ease. 

I stood and watched this happy group, so pure 

Seemed their enjoyment, fancy all of course; 

But long ago 'twas said, "so near approach 

The sports of children to the toils of men." 

Is it not almost strange how fancy weaves 

Her potent spell over our children's minds? 

Play this, play that, one to the other says; 

And one is pony; one is queen; and one 

Will ride his trained stick war-horse, and will lead 

His troops of soldiers in their serried ranks 

To meet the charging foe. It is not strange 

I staid and watched awhile, with pleasant thoughts, 

That group of four, children of two dear friends. 

Departing from another home I saw, 

AVithin her hammock, swinging in the shade. 

Another fair young girl, a "Kittie" child, 

With whom I had been holding converse there. 



110 

The brown hair gleaming on her bright j^oung head, 

How could I fail to see a young queen there? 

And so the hundreds, yes, the thousands are. 

Go by our homes and in their hammocks see, 

When summer eve is bright, the gentle girls. 

Some with their curly heads, and some with long, 

Brown ringlets, some with straight dark hair, but all 

So independent in their fathers' homes. 

So free from care or dread for coming years. 

And are they not more free in many ways. 

In these free homes of ours where none may say, 

Here are the limits, as to social life. 

Here are the limits, as to wealth and fame, 

Here are the limits, as to earth's career. 

Beyond which none of you can ever pass, — 

Yes, are they not more free than any girls 

Who find themselves the daughters of a king, 

Of king or titled queen beyond the sea? 

They are not bound by Hindoo caste; not bound 

By customs from the ages past derived 

Sterner than law itself; the}^ are not bound 

To follow on in the ancestral line 

Of daily toil. Their calling they may choose. 

From what pursuit in life are they shut out? 

More free are they than any palace girls; 

And who will say, in form and face, in mind 

And grace, the native grace of human life, 

That some have not been quite as well endowed? 



Ill 

Now, at their brothers look. They also swing 
Sometimes in hammocks, in the twilight hour. 
Their years are very few. Their hopes are bright. 
Within our homes are many manly boys, 
And they may yet lead armies, govern states, 
Or be our soldiers brave in time of war. 
Our sturdy yeomen and our business men 
In the long years of peace. 

Look in our homes. 
But stay. I must not lightly lift the veil, 
That shuts out stra,nger eyes from childhood's couch. 
From snowy pillow where the curly heads 
Repose at night-fall, when the chilly dew 
Forms on the grass and flower beds, and the stars 
Look out from the blue sky, or hide behind 
The storm cloud. ISTo, I must not lift the veil. 
Except with reverent hand, that hides the babe 
Within its cradle bed asleep, the care. 
The constant care of its young mother, now 
So pale, yet wondrous fair in her great gift 
Of motherhood. But we may listen all 
And join the song of praise and hear the prayer 
And hearken to the sacred word of God, 
When in the early morn or else at eve 
So man}^ of our peaceful households still. 
Like those of old, in household worship join. 
You hear the father's voice in pleading prayer, 
You see the mother and the children bowed 



112 

In silent homage before Jacob's God; 
And if you do not think that prayer goes up 
To the eternal throne and to the ear 
Of God and brings a store of blessings down, 
You know, that if some little one is called 
In the still hour of night to pass from earth, 
'Tis sweet at least to think it upward soars 
To dwell thenceforward in the angels' home: 
You also know that those who, day by day, 
In heartfelt homage bow before their God 
Are fitted none the less to do life's work. 

Look now again, and see in all her joy 
The daughter of the household stand arrayed 
In bridal robes when comes the marriage hour. 
And friends and kindred throng within the home. 
When heart is truly knit with heart, when love 
True youthful love, unselfish in its joy, 
Shows its bright light in trustful, beaming eyes. 
Though sometimes tear drops mingle with the smiles, 
And sadness presses on the mother's heart. 
Yet beautiful is then the marriage rite. 

We take but one more look within and see 
The parents and the children and tlieir guests 
The board surround. Not in the early morn 
We look, for then the youngest sometimes sleep. 
But we will look at mid-day or at eve, 
When by the mother or the father's side 
Stands the high chair, and in it snugly sits 



113 

The youngest of the househohl, looking up 
With trusting confidence, as sure of food 
As robins in their nest with open mouth 
At sound of father or of mother bird. 
The other children in their places all, 
With napkins spread, wait to be helped in turn; 
And then there comes the flow of table talk. 
All are together now, and often plans 
Are formed, projects are named, topics discussed, 
That are of common interest to them all. 
Sometimes, it may be, children talk too much, 
But many a pleasant scene and precious hour 
Have been of "table talk." Children may talk, 
As well as eat and think, if wisely trained. 
To have the little prattlers sent away 
At meal time is not well; but let them learn. 
Learn how to listen and then how to talk. 
Such is the custom in our country homes. 
Now the repast is o'er and we must leave, 
And as we stand in door-way, hats in hand. 
And all the household go their various ways, 
We think, how fully friends are trusted here 
While strangers sometimes find the entrance barred. 
So we pass on and out, thinking again, 
A messenger will one day come, that pale 
Death angel, whom of courtesy no law, 
Nor lock, nor bolt, nor prayer, nor tear, can keep 
From entrance anywhere. And then we think, , 
15 



114 

Forth from each home will sometime surely pass 
The slow paced funeral train. When that time comes, 
As come it will to all our homes, God grant 
Each soul may find a home in Paradise. 

But now our homes are living homes. No one 
Has yet their number counted. No one knows 
The entrance ways into them all. As yet 
The light shines on them; and in most there shines 
The light of household love. Not many yet 
xAre drunkard's homes. Not many yet are filled 
With squalid wretchedness or want or shame. 
No alleys dark, no dens of filth and crime, 
Are in our towns and villages. But soon 
These words may not be true; for shadows creep, 
Dark shadows creep along near to some homes; 
And who can tell when shall burst forth or where 
Childhood's shrill scream and woman's wild despair? 
We need to guard our homes by day and night, 
These homes, that lie along our northern lake; 
That are among the sandhills of our north; 
That are along our winding Calumet; 
That nestle in the valleys, on the slopes, 
Along our southern streams and noted marsh; 
That dot our prairies and our woodlands fill; 
Thajb are in all our towns on rail-road tracks; 
That lie around the Lake of Cedars — all; 
We need to guard them all, securely guard 
Against the evils of strong drink: against 



115 



All other evil, all lax views of life 

Which are so sure to dim the light of home. 

So long as our home life is pure, so long 

We may expect to be prospered and free, 

A happy jDortion of our Commonwealth. 

Long may the love of virtue dwell within 

The homes of Lake. Long may its lovely light 

Shine in the faces of our girls, and make 

Our manly boys heroes in every fight. 



116 
FOR A SILVER WEDDING. 1886. 



Note. -On Friday eveuiiig, March 26, Dr. Pratt "with his 
three daughters returning home from yn evpninj? iectvite, 
found his houf^e opened, war med, and illuminated, * * and 
thronging guests already theie, and others soon arriving. 
The surprise eould not well hav^.. been more eomplete." The 
many and rich presents were formally presented with a short 
address I)y the Rev. T. H. Ball, and the thanks of the family 
were returned by the lecturer of the evening, Col. J. P. 
Sanford. After congratulations, "a bountiful collation 
prepared by Mrs. Pratt was then served." "At a late hour, 
having spent a very pleasant evening the guests retired." 

TO DR. AND MRS. A. J. PRATT ON THE TWENTY-FIFTH ANNI- 
VERSARY OF THEIR MARRIAGE, MARCH 26, 1886. 

Within our quiet homes with their bright household fires, 
Where childi-en dwell and parents, aged dames and sires, 
Cheerful and warm and safe amid the winter's storm, 
Striving in good degree life's duties to perform. 
We come at length to greet the spring time of the year. 
The robins, larks, and blue-birds even now are here. 
They sing their old sweet songs while waiting for the leaves: 
This lay, amid their carols, friendship's hand now weaves. 
Not good, it is not good that man should be alone; 
So said the Holy One who sits upon the throne. 
Who called this universe from its primeval night. 
Whose great creative word proclaimed "Let there be light." 
And then in order formed this beauteous world of ours, 



117 

Creating singing birds and mantling earth with flowers. 

It is not good for man to be on earth alone. 

And so a woman fair was formed of Adam's bone; 

And then that beauteous Eve, fairest of all on earth, 

The only woman known who had no mortal birth, 

The only virgin fair who never was a girl, 

Whose long rich silken hair no mother's hand did curl: 

This maid in beauty clothed to Adam's side was brought, 

Whose hand in youthful wedlock he had never sought; 

And soon the words were said that bound them both for life. 

He for a faithful husband, she a loving wife. 

And down through all the ages since that sunny hour. 

When God liimself ordained in Eden's holy bower. 

For this cause shall a man father and mother leave, 

And through both good^p^nd ill unto his wife shall cleave — 

The sons of Adam seek Eve's daughters to decoy. 

To be within their homes the center of home's joy. 

So marriage came to bo the law for man on earth, 

A law ordained to last until earth's second birth. 

For five and twenty years this law you have observed, 

And silver gifts to-night full well have you deserved; 

For grown up in your home are now three daughters fair, 

And silver threads appear in your once auburn hair; 

And God has richly blessed you with abundant store. 

May his rich grace be with you now and evermore. 

Let praj^er and praise each day keep yours a home of love, 

Until you reach your Father's glorious home above. 



118 
AN EASTER HYMN. 1886. 



DEATH AND RESURRECTION. 

A few more suns will set, 

A few more suns will rise, 
And then will close in death 

Our weary, sightless eyes; 
A few more years will roll 

Their steady, ceaseless round, 
And our dead ears will hear 

The glorious trumpet sound. 

The solemn night will come. 

With heavy curtains drawn; 
So also surely comes 

The ever glorious morf ; 
No doubt the night of death 

To us is drawing near; 
The resurrection morn 

As surely will appear. 

The body of our Lord 

Lay in its rocky bed, 
In linen wrapped with spice, 

A napkin round his head; 
For two full nights that form 

Lay in the rock asleep. 
While Koman guards around 

A ceaseless vigil keep. 



119 

Then came the earthquake's shock, 

Then came the angel band, 
And naught availed the spear 

Held in the Roman hand; 
The King, the Lord of life, 

Then from the dead arose; 
Like triumph we shall share 

O'er all our deadlj^ foes. 

In hope of that glad hour, 

We now in joy can sing, 
"Where is thy victory, grave? 

Oh death! where is thy sting?" 
"The Lord is risen indeed. 

To Simon hath appeared;" 
These are the ancient words 

With which our hearts are cheered. 



120 
An Anniversary Hymn for the Alumni Association of Franklin College. 



TUNE, ''AMERICA." Juiie, 1886. 

Again in peace we meet; 
Again with joy we greet, 

Friends old and new: 
To God our hearts we raise. 
In songs of fervent praise, 
Whose power prolongs our days, 

Whose love is true. 

We never heard the voice, 
Making our souls rejoice. 

Of angel choir; 
But one glad angel song. 
Sung by their voices strong, 
Has lived these ages long, 

Like sacred fire. 

The burden of that strain, 
An ever sweet refrain. 

We breathe again. 
''Glory to God" on high; 
Man was condemned to die. 
But peace, good-will drew nigh; 

Good will to men. 



121 

More dear is 8iloam's fount, 
Than any classic mount, 

Or mythic spring; 
Not Roman, Greek, nor Jew, 
The gh)ry ever knew. 
Which we in Christ can view; 

His praise we sing. 

Accept, oh Saviour, God, 
Thou who with iron rod, 

Shalt heathen break, — 
Accept our homage true 
And in the grand review. 
May we, with hearts made new, 

Thy love partake. 



16 



122 
Chicago, Tuesday morning, 7 o'clock, Dec. 14, 1886. 

Tliere is a world untouched 

By earthly care and grief; 
Where grain men do not sow, 

Nor bind a summer sheaf: 

A world of beanty rare, 

A world of joy and peace, 
Where partings never come, 

And love can never cease. 

When we our work have done, 

On earth no more to roam, 
W^ithin that radiant world, 

May we all find our home. 



123 

1887. 
In memory of Buby Underwood Conway, who was born in 
K,.ss township, Lake county, Indiana, Aug. 19, 1866, was 
married to J. Harry Conway May 1, 1887, and who <lied 
Monday, Sept. 5, 1887. about forty minutes after on.- o'clock 
in the afternoon. The buiial services w^^re conducted by 
Eev. T. H. Ball, who had been acquaiott-d with her from hei 
childhood. The text was from John 17:24. 

MEMORIAL. 

Passing away from earth, to worlds unknown! 

Passing— as boats sail into mighty seas 

From sheltered harbors and from rivers bright, 

To land npon some distant coast and send 

No tidings back of their arrival there; — 

Passing — like summer birds away, to spend 

The wintry days and nights in other climes;-^ 

So are they passing, human souls, away. 

To spend what is to us death's night, perchance 

In darkness! or in realms of glorious day . 

Death comes. Each hour some souls, some spirits pass; 

Dust goes to dust; the soul to God who gave. 

Wonders of life and death! wonders are here. 

Yes, "trailing clouds of glory" do they come; 

Within earth-forms awhile these spirits dwell; 

Then with the angel bands they soar away. 

They are to us invisible, if near. 

Their swiftest pinion we can never hear. 



124 

Into another of our pleasant homes 
The other day, came Death and sent awa}^ 
Not long before some rain drops fell, the soul 
Of Ruby; of another daughter, friend. 
Sister, and neighbor, and for four short months 
A bride. So young! In the first flush of bright, 
Glad womanhood; and hoping soon to be, 
Within her own, and not her mother's home, 
The center, life, and joy. So young, so fair. 
So full of promise; and a year ago, 
A single score of years then having lived. 
Bidding so fair for long and useful life. 
From her near country home into our town. 
Some years ago, she came, a girl, a child. 
With mother, sister, and with brothers two. 
Each day, in term time, forth and back she went 
To school and home again, with light, child heart. 
She found a place to learn God's holy word 
In Sabbath school, when came the Sabbath morn. 
She learned those teachings from some earnest lips. 
Years swiftly passed. Herself a teacher soon. 
And her kind heart for others learned to feel. 
She helped the poor and needy, helped to clothe 
Mid winter's cold young children whom she knew. 
And woman's lot came on her. May Day eve., 
With marriage vows, she gave her hand to one 
To whom already she had given her heart. 
And soon she hastened, — even then perhaps 



125 

Shadows had touched her soul— hastened her steps 
To Jesus. She had learned the way to Him. 
;She said she found; she trusted; she laid hold 
! Of the great hope of life. And there was need. 
For soon upon a sick-bed she was laid. 
Kind friends and loved ones gathered round her close, 
Among them her new sister loving Maud, 
Rich in her Christian trust and love and hope, 
Her sweet voice trained to utter sacred song. 
But none could hold back dust from dust or stay 
The spirit's flight whose wings were plumed for heaven. 
So she wejit forth "to Jesus in the rain." 
Crushed are all earth-born hopes, earth work is done. 
Farewell to thee young wife! Daughter, farewell! 
Farewell to thee, oh sister, neighbor, friend! 
Gone from this earth thy presence; gone to dwell 
AVithin the spirit-w^orld, till He shall come 
Back to this world of ours, who is the Lord 
Of angels and of man; "of quick and dead*' 
The J^udge. When He with all his angels comes, 
The souls of all, who now in Jesus sleep. 
Will also come, his triumph then to share. 
In hope of that glad day sleep on, oh dust! 
Oh ransomed soul, within the Kingdom safe. 
Resting until that dust awakes, rejoice. 

Notes. — The sister Maud meotioned above is Mrs. Maud 
Barnctt, herself quite young, a teacher for a few years at the 



126 

Western Female Seminary pa Oxford, Ohio, sister uf Mr. J. 
Harry Conway. 

"Eain drops fell." When Mrs. Ball, who had been Ruby's 
Sunday-school teacher in childhood, and wlio was with her 
during her last night on earth, opened the door of the room 
in the morning, Ruby looked out and remarked "How beauti- 
ful!" but early in the afternoon sho seemed to feel the comiuf? 
shower, and said, with a child like simplicity, as though back 
in her young girlhood, 'Tm going to Jesus in the rain." But 
with no expression of sadness or regr(^t, smiling her last 
good-byes, even in death, she passed from us to the other 
home. 



127 

THE CHILDREN'S SONG TO THE PIONEERS. 1887. 
Sung Ht the twelfth anniversary of the Old Settlers' 
Association. 

We are pressing on beliiud you, 

Father, mother, Pioneers; 
We are glad you've staid among us, 

Living through these long good years: 
We will soon be men and v^omen, 

And will help to till the ground; 
We will hold the farms and orchards. 

While the seasons roll around. 
There are those wha sometimes call us 

Dancing beams of joyous light; 
Olive plants around your tables; 

And we sometimes miss the right: 
We shall soon be men and w.omen; 

Set us good examples, please; 
Need we care for books and learning? 

Should we seek for wealth and ease? 

There are those who try to teach us 

Not to live for empty show. 
But to live for some grand purpose, 

Doing good while here below: 
Hear this singing of the children. 

Father, mother. Pioneers; 
We are pressing on behind you; 

Give our song attentive ears. 



128 



Were you ever little children? 

Did you have some mothers dear? 
Have you miuded all the good things 

Which they taught when they were here? 
We are quite a little army; 

Don't you see how fast w^e grow? 
We are crowding on behind you; 

Tell us all the good you know. 



Tell us of the wolves and Indians, 

Tell us of the good old times; 
Tell us of the deer and wild cats; 

Tell us how you made the dimes: 
Tell us nice and pretty stories 

Of those fifty years ago, 
When you too \^ere young and blithesome, 

Dreading not the ice and snow. 



We are pressing on behind you, 

Father, mother. Pioneers; 
We are glad you've staid among us. 

Living through these long, good years: 
We will soon be men and women, 

And will help to till the ground; 
We will hold your names in honor, 

While the seasons roll around. 



129 
SPEAK GENTLY. March 14, 1888. 



Know thou thyself, was a famous old maxim; 

Heed it too little the most of us may: 
Busy in gaining, intent on enjoying, 

Self-knowledge lightl}^ we cast far away. 

Knowing our neighbors, in that we seem skillful; 

Reading their thouglits and their motives at will; 
Such, it would seem, is the power those are claiming. 

Who freely mention of others much ill. 

Study yourself man, and shall I say woman? 

Keen as you may be, you cannot read mind; 
Guard you the lips that would speak ill of others; 

Largely in judging of motives you're blind. 

Cruelly, harshly too often you're wounding 

Rich, bleeding hearts that are throbbing with pain; 

Heedlessly uttering words that are cutting, 

Charging with fault where there dwells not a stain. 

Lips firm and ruby-dyed speak in your hearing; 

Eyes clear and beaming may look in your own; 
Little you know that the cataract nearing. 

Sternly the doomed one suppresses a groan. 

Pleasant the tones of the voice as you listen. 
Cloudless and clear may the countenance be, 

Like the dry earth where no dew drops e'er glisten, 
•Careless and cheerful so far as you see. 
17 



130 

Little you know of the inner commotion, 
Little you know of the depths of the soul: 

How could you tell on the shore of the ocean, 
What lies beneath where the tidal waves roll? 

What do you know of the restless ambitions? 

What do you know of the sorrows and tears? 
What do you know of the dear aspirations? 

What do you know of the hopes and the fears? 

What do you know of the dark disappointments? 

Wliat do you know of the dull, ceaseless pain? 
What do you know of those conflicts in secret, 

When from the eyes fall the tear drops like rain? 

Gently then, gently then, deal with thy brother; 

Speak to thy sister in soft tones of love; 
Judge not another lest thou be judged also, 

Comes to us sanctioned by power from above. 

Knowing so little how others are struggling, 
Knowing so little the under-tow strong, 

Knowing so little the heart's real condition, 
Guard well thy lips that they utter no wrong. 

Dealing with others as you would be dealt by; 

Never imputing misfortune for fault; 
Follow the Teachings declared on the Mountain: 

Light of the world be and also the salt. 



131 

In memory of Mrs. M J. Dinwiddle of Plum Grove, who 
died at her home March 15, 1888. being nearly seventy years 
of age Written on Sunday morning, March 18, and read at 
the opening religious services of the day, all the family 
present except E.W. Dinwiddle, a former Secretary of the 
Plum Grove Sunday school, then in Florida. 

Gone in the ripeness of a rounded life- 
Gone in the fulness of a goodly age; 

Gone from this world of sorrow and of strife; 
Gone to receive a deathless heritage. 

Gone from earth's joys, and from its pain and cares; 

Gone from its broken bands, its light and love; 
Gone from its beauties, and its toils and snares; 

Gone to a brighter, lovelier world above. 

We miss her presence with us here to-day, 
Where for so many years she loved to be, 

When came the Sabbath morning hour to pray 
And worship God in true sincerity. 

And we shall miss her in the Sabbath school 

Through all the coming weeks of summer bright; 

No more will children share her gentle rule, 
Kor learn from her the laws of wrong and right. 



132 

In all our gatherings one more vacant place; 

She will go in and out at home no more; 
But she now sees the Saviour's glorious face, 

She rests in peace upon the deathless shore. 

For her we need not mourn, we need not weep. 
So safe, so blissful, in that ''better land:" 

Let us make sure that when in death we sleep, 
We too may enter mid the "happy band." 



133 

Written in Oak Grove, Mondaj, May 14, 1888, on hearing 
of the death of Edith V. IIalsted who died one week before. 
May 7. 1888. 

My heart is sad to hear that thou art gone from earth, 
Young Edith, gentle, lovely, pleasant, joyous child: 

But ten full years have passed since thou dids't have thy 
birth: 
When in thy home another human infant smiled. 

A gentle child and lovely hast thou been to me; 

One of the many spirits choice gladdening our land; 
Of presence winsome, sweet, such as all love to see; 

When modest, in their lot and place they graceful stand. 

When last we met and parted there was not a thought, 
That I in home and school should greet thee nevermore; 

Oh how this life of ours is oft with sorrow fraught! 
How quick we slip across and reach the shining shore! 

When the June roses breathe their fragrance on the air, 
And in our ^'Children's Meeting" voices join in song, 

Among the faces bright we'll miss our Edith there: 
But richer is her joy amid the holy throng. 



134 

In each year that passes children are gathered home; 
More full, more bright that Home, where all the ran- 
somed meet; 
A few days more yet others on this earth will roam; 
, Then on the paths of life we'll cease their forms to greet. 

Were there no world beyond, how vain our earthly lifel 
Were there no heavenly love, the grave how drear, how 
dark! 

It should be joy to know, amid earth's pain and strife, 
That death cannot put out the loving vital spark. 



135 

TO THE YOUNG CHILDREN WHOM I KNOW AND LOVE. 1888. 

You, children, admire, one and all. 

The beauty of young budding life, 
The beauty in beast, bird, and flower, 

That beauty with which earth is rife. 

Most young things with beauty are clothed; 

Most young things afford us delight; 
But what living things can compare 

With children in making earth bright. 

Yes, childhood, sweet childhood for me. 

Robed in meekness, innocence, grace. 
The beauty of nature I love; 

I see soul in a true child face. 

We all that sweet story have heard, 

How he, who was Saviour of all, 
Little children took in his arms. 

And taught, they should come to his call. 

Upon their young, bright, curly heads, 

His kind hands in blessing were laid; 
But not on the joyous, stout youth, 

Nor yet on the blooming young maid. 

^^Of such is the kingdom of heaven" 

Of true little children was said; 
And sweet are these words, full of cheer, 

When they sleep in a dreamless bed. 



136 

Yes, much of sweet, innocent life, 
Is found in a true-hearted child. 

While such, as from Paradise fresh. 
Remain meek, and truthful, and mild. 

Not long, little children now dear. 
Will you in your childhood remain: 

I would that each on-coming year, 

Might leave on your souls no dark stain. 

I would you might seek for the love 

Of Him who young children once blessed. 

And come to his own gracious call. 
Whose promise is still to give rest. 

A "glorified childhood" will then 
Be yours to the end of your days; 

And in the glad, bright, upper home, 
You will join in anthems of praise. 



137 
THE WOODLANDS. 



Commenced in South East Grove; finished July 17. 1888. 
I do not wonder that tlie red men of the wild 
Found pleasure in the forests. I, a prairie child, 
Though near the mountains born, have learned to love 

the wood: 
The wild wood, dense and dark, those woodlands where 

have stood 
For centuries the giant oaks, walnuts, and beech; 
Within whose dark recess is heard the wild owl's screech: — 
And open woods, where I have met the startled deer, 
As, in their runway standing, they have passed so near, 
That I could almost touch them with my hand and see 
Their perfect beauty as they passed so wild, so free, 
A score or more together bounding unharmed by; 
(A thrilling sight was that to fill a hunter's eye;) 
And when in unexpected moment I have met 
The gaunt and hungry prairie wolf, no household pet, 
By hunger driven to those open woodlands near 
To search for acorns, as he could not catch the deer: — 
And sunny groves, those groves so full of life and cheer. 
Where singing birds are fotmd, where sometimes come the 
deer, 
18 



138 

But where the squirrels, black, or red, or gray abound, 
Where the quails wliistle and their nests are on the 

ground, 
Where the mild, timid rabbit bounds in grace along, 
IJncharmed by thrush or cat-birds sweetest morning song. 
Where gentle mourning doves discourse their music sweet. 
Clothed in a living beauty to their small pink feet. 
The changing color of whose glossy necks might vie 
With changing silk and charm the child's admiring eye; 
Where with the living things are flowers of every hue, 
And where the gentle brooks, meandering softly through, 
Give drink to birds and freshness to the cool retreat, 
Where oft in summer time bright, glad young children 

meet. 
Yes, these bright sunny groves I love; the open wood 
Skirting for miles the prairie where my home once stood. 
That dearest home to me of all the homes of earth. 
Still dearer than that hill top home, home of my birth, — 
Those open woods that round the Lake of Cedars lie 
My heart must surely cling to firmly till I die. 

But back again we come to the deep forests dark, 
In which might once be heard the gray wolf's howl or bark; 
Those pathless forests, so the early writers said. 
Pathless indeed, because within no white man's tread; 



139 



And yet the deer had runways, and the elk and moose, 
Although as shy, as wary, as a lone wild goose, 
Left traces where they passed the giant trees along; 
And bears and wolves and wildcats, and the mighty throng 
Of red men, in the forest footprints surely made, 
Although the earth might not show trace of shoe or spade. 

No wonder Indians loved so grand a dwelling place. 
A forest was a fitting home for such a race. 
Beneath the trees they found in summer heat a shade, 
Among them easily in winter wigwams made. 
And game, choice game was there sufficient for their food. 
And that wild life was suited to the Indian mood. 
To us, anointed heirs of knowledge, art, and skill, 
There is a grandeur left about a forest still. 
Without a house we would not in a forest dwell. 
But pictures of a mighty past words scarce can tell 
Come thronging on the mind when for one single hour. 
Alone in forest dark we yield to fancy's power. 



141 
CONTENTS. 



The Noise of Running Water. - - _ . 5 

In Memory of Ann Belshaw. 6 

Deception. 9 

The Closing Year. 10 

Brother, Come Home. - 13 

My Mocking Bird. 16 

Grove Hill Academy Hymns. _ _ - - 18 

A Message. 21 

In Memory of Jimmie H. Coffin. - - - - 26 

Special Thanksgiving Hymn. 28 

Willie E. Creighton. ------ 29 

A New Psalm of Life. - 31 

Myth and Truth. - 33 

For M. J. B. - - - - - - - - 36 

A Farewell. 38 

A Hymn. -41 

Invitation to Prayer. 42 

In Memory of Lurina H. Vinnedge. - - - 43 

In Memory of Julia B. Summers. - - - 45 

A Special Hymn. .--_<.-- 47 

Stray Thoughts. ------- 48 

To Minnie. ...----. 50 

A Letter. 52 

For Miss Lillie H. Woodard. ----- 54 

In Memory of Lillian Ball. 57 



142 

In Memory of Maggie Turner. - . - - - 60 

For Miss Genie H. Woodard. - - - - 62 

For Miss Georgia Williams. ----- 65 

Our Broad Land. 67 

A Thanksgiving Hymn. 69 

In Memory of Edith E. Ball. - - - - 70 

A Hymn on the Death of President Garfield. - - 73 

Another Memorial Hymn. 76 

Memorial Hymn. 79 

Semi-Centennial Poem. 80 

A Silver Wedding Ode. - • - - - - 89 

An Alumni Poem. ------ 94 

To Miss Cynthia Wood. 1Q3 

The Homes of Lake. ------ 105 

For a Silver Wedding. - - - - - -116 

An Easter Hymn. - - - - - - 118 

An Alumni Hymn. -----. 120 

In Memory of Ruby Underwood Conway. - - 123 

Children's Song to the Pioneers. . - - - 127 

Speak Gently. 129 

In Memory of Mrs. M. J. Dinwiddle. - - - 131 

In Memory of Edith V. Halsted. - - - 132 

To the Young Children Whom I Love. - - - 134 

The Woodlands. 136 





143 




HYMNS. 


1. 


A. Morning Song. 


2, 


Praise to God. 


3. 


Morning Devotion. 


4. 


A Morning Hymn. 


5. 


A Thanksgiving Hymn. 


C>. 


A Hymn, Faith, Hope, Love, 


/ . 


A Burial Service Hymn. 


8. 


A National Hymn. 


9. 


A Thanksgiving Hymn. 


10. 


A Memorial Hymn. 


11. 


Memorial Hymn. 


12. 


Memorial, Hymn. 


18. 


An Easter Hymn. 


14. 


An Alumni Hymn. 



18 
18 
19 
20 
28 
41 
47 
67 
69 
73 
76 
79 
118 
120 



